Simple Enough
by lyart
Summary: They're like a married couple. Except not married–Matthew stands by that, damn it.
1. In which marriage is acknowledged

I've always liked this couple, because they're just so very _different_, but I think they'd really get along (like on the April 1st blog, where Matthew visits and gives Gilbert maple syrup). Plus, Gilbert can recognize Matthew. If the two of them got into a relationship, I imagine it would be over a while.

I imagine Matthew to show much more of his snarky self around him, since Gilbert himself doesn't really give a damn about anything and says whatever the hell he wants. This is kind of a platonic sort of fic (for now, I may add on to it in the future XD), and it's really only rated for Gilbert's mouth. I hope I didn't get out of character.  


* * *

"Hey! Canada, you here?" a loud voice, sharp as a gunshot, rang out as Gilbert pushed open the front door. He didn't knock—more likely was that he just didn't care—and let himself into the house. He raked the foyer with bright red eyes, raising an eyebrow when the familiar blond didn't make his way out of the kitchen or living room or wherever he had been.

Gilbert walked further inside, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. "What, I decide to grace you with my awesome, super-cool presence and you aren't even here?" he exclaimed aloud. He paused just as he was about to pass the living room as he saw a white furry form trundle across the carpet. "Huh?"

The bear looked up at him with small black eyes, as if assessing him. Then, it said simply, "Who?" Gilbert's eyebrow twitched with annoyance, before he noticed it had been heading towards the couch, or, more specifically, a figure sprawled out over the couch.

"So you _are_ here, you bastard," Gilbert commented and walked over to the couch. He peered down at Matthew, who—in sleep—had numerous papers clutched to his chest, a pen hanging between his fingers. His glasses had slid down his nose slightly and his hair fell over his face. Gilbert crouched next to his sleeping form. "Doing paperwork _again_? Jeez, Matthew."

He lifted a hand then, grinning, and flicked the Canadian's forehead (hard, too) with an index finger.

It wrinkled at the touch and a small "mngh" of protest rose from Matthew. His blue-violet eyes opened just a slit, peering at the intruder. They closed when he realized who it was and Gilbert scowled lightly, swatting the boy on top of his head.

"Hey," Matthew complained sleepily. "What the hell, Gilbert…"

Gilbert grinned and stood up. "It's time to wake up, Matt. I've got a wicked craving for some pancakes."

"Is that all you're here for?" Matthew mumbled, sitting up slowly and pulling off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"Yeah! West's shitty at making them. Plus, we're out of maple syrup."

"Oh." Matthew yawned and slid his glasses back on, blinking slightly. He gathered his papers together, tapping them into neatness before setting them on the table and standing. "Pancakes, huh?"

"Fuck yeah!" Gilbert grinned toothily at him.

"I guess it couldn't hurt to make some…I'm kind of hungry now that I think about it. Though…" Here Matthew squinted towards the clock on the wall. "…five o'clock's kind of late for pancakes."

"I could eat them for every meal," Gilbert said, shrugging his shoulders carelessly and following Canada as he walked into the kitchen and began to gather together ingredients. "Hey, you want me to fry up some wurst, too?"

"Is there any here?" Matthew blinked over at him. Gilbert smirked smugly and walked over to the freezer.

"Duh. I left some here last time I came over," he drawled, rooting out a pack.

"Speaking of that," Matthew said as he began to mix up the batter for the pancakes, "I've been finding a ton of your stuff just lying around upstairs; toothbrush, towels, spare clothes and things. Are you moving in or something?"

Gilbert snorted. "Maybe it's all a part of my plan to invade your vital regions," he said, grinning and walking over to get a pan to cook his wurst.

"If you wanted to invade my vital regions so bad, you would've already," Matthew remarked absentmindedly. Gilbert narrowed his eyes and reached over suddenly with his free hand, swatting the Canadian on the ass, causing him to jump. "Wh—hey!"

"Maybe I'm just waiting to use the element of surprise," Gilbert said smugly, pleased with the reaction. Matthew gave him a hard look, red-faced, before turning back to his mixing. "Now you'll have to live in fear of the awesome me."

"You've been coming over to my house for months," Matthew said to him.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow as he dropped the wurst in the pan, poking holes in them idly with a fork before getting them frying. "So what?" he asked.

"I don't think I can really live in fear of the awesome you," Matthew told him honestly and smiled. "You're too much like my friend now for me to get afraid."

"God," Gilbert groaned, shuddering as though in physical pain and moving the wurst around in the pan as the Canadian pulled down a frying pan of his own to make the pancakes. "Keep that sappy sensitive feelings crap to yourself, _please_. I'm gonna be sick."

"Oh?" Matthew widened his eyes. "Have I found your _weakness_, Gilbert?"

"Shut up, don't get any fucking ideas."

"_Gilbert_," Matthew began in a cooing voice, pouring the batter into the pan, "you're my best friend in the _whole wide world_. I couldn't _live_ without you around!"

Gilbert made a strangled noise and pantomimed choking himself.

The Canadian snorted and laughed quietly next to him and Gilbert grinned after a few moments (though it was reluctantly! Definitely reluctantly, really). They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, broken only by the sizzle of the food as it cooked.

"It's sort of nice having someone around who doesn't mix me up for Alfred half the time, though," Matthew commented. Gilbert glanced over at him with bright red eyes.

"I don't get how they can fucking do that," Gilbert groused. "I mean, seriously, look at you." He gestured at Matthew, who turned widened eyes on him with surprise and even a small touch of gratitude in the curve of his mouth. "First of all, that gun-happy sonofabitch never shuts the hell up while you never _speak_ the hell up. He's an asshole while you're…not." This was said awkwardly.

"Thanks, Gilbert," Matthew said idly, recognizing a compliment and flipping the pancake over.

"That British bastard mixes you up with him half the time, and he _raised_ you," Gilbert growled, unable to understand it. He turned off the stove quickly before his wurst could burn and folded his arms. _He_ could tell them apart easily! He was roused a little by a touch to his elbow.

"I'm pretty much used to it by now," Matthew told him lightly.

"You should be more pissed about it," Gilbert said after a few moments.

"Well, you recognize me." Matthew blinked up at him, expression trusting and unguarded, and the former country of Prussia looked away uncomfortably. "And once in a while, others recognize me, too." He smiled and looked down at the pan, pouring in more batter as he scooped the cooked pancakes out and put them on a plate.

Gilbert sighed noisily. "Pansy bastard," he said, rolling his wurst onto a plate. Matthew laughed and combed a hand through his wavy blond hair with a shrug and a smile.

"Syrup's in the cupboard," he told him, tilting his head towards it. "These are just about done."

"Awesome." Gilbert rubbed his hands together before fetching the bottle of maple syrup, carrying it over to the table. He twisted off the cap, swiping some from the rim with a finger and licking it off. Matthew looked over at him, carrying a stack of pancakes on two plates.

"Stop that," he scolded.

"Don't order me around, you're not my brother or my wife," Gilbert drawled.

"I may just as well be your wife," Matthew muttered as he sat in the chair next to him, setting the plates down. He snatched some of the wurst with his fork, ignoring the grumbled complaint ("Hey, I made you pancakes, Gilbert, don't get stingy on me now.") and pouring a generous amount of syrup over it all.

"How d'ya figure?" Gilbert asked through a mouthful of pancake, fairly groaning in enjoyment.

"Well, I fight with you, talk with you, cook and eat meals with you, occasionally share the same _room_ as you—"

"You really need to get a spare bedroom," Gilbert complained after swallowing thickly. "You're a fucking bed-hog, Matthew."

"—share the same _bed_ as you from time to time because you won't ever sleep on the floor," Matthew continued pointedly ("The awesome me sleep on the floor? As if!"). "You visit practically every day…"

"Every second day or third day, that's it, and it's only for pancakes, don't flatter yourself," Gilbert muttered, spearing some more pancake and eating it. He shut his eyes in bliss as he chewed, wondering if Matthew would be mad if he just went ahead and poured all of the maple syrup in the bottle right into his mouth.

"And this has been going on for months," Matthew finished. "I mean, Kumajirou doesn't even know who you are—that practically means you're family." Gilbert rolled his eyes as said bear shuffled into the kitchen, attracted by the smells of food. Gilbert rolled a wurst across the floor towards Kumajirou, who snapped it up hungrily.

"If we were married, we'd be fucking," Gilbert said pointedly, raising his eyebrows. "And we're not. Which means you're not my wife because you're not putting out."

"Are you sure about that? Does a wife really put out?" Matthew asked dryly, and Gilbert paused.

"Now that you mention it, I don't think that Austrian bastard was getting any when he and Hungary got married," Gilbert said slowly. He looked at Matthew somewhat disgustedly. "Fuck, I guess we're pretty much married, then."

Matthew lifted his palms towards the ceiling helplessly. "Oh well. Think of it this way; you could be 'married' to Alfred."

"I'd rather you," Gilbert said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. He turned back to his food, chomping down with renewed vigor even while Matthew looked rather touched.

If this was the closest thing Matthew ever came to marriage, he thought he'd be quite happy with it.  


* * *


	2. In which housing decisions are made

I usually get urges to write all at once. XD So, I'm just continuing on with this and I'll see what happens. It won't be some long, multi-chaptered fic, because I can never finish them.

I may time skip here and there, to get to a more romantic-coupley place, haha. Alfred and Arthur have a feature in this chapter—I adore Alfred, he's hilarious, I just can't stick him with anyone romantically, and I can't see him being too overprotective of Matthew. I see them more like the 'we fight but we love each other deep down' kind of brothers. I love Arthur as well.  


* * *

"I think West wants me to move out."

So said Gilbert as he and Matthew sat outside the World Conference Building, soaking up the last of the sun before autumn started to set in. Passersby occasionally stared at Gilbert as they passed, at his very pale hair and red eyes, their eyes glossing right over the wavy-haired blond next to him.

Matthew blinked, swallowed the food in his mouth, and turned his head to look at Gilbert inquiringly. The lean man looked grumpy, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, bemused. As far as he remembered, the brothers had always gotten along (this was Matthew, however, and his idea of 'getting along' was along the lines of recognizing each other when they saw each other).

"He keeps putting my stuff in suitcases and leaving it by the front door," Gilbert grouched.

Canada hummed thoughtfully and leaned back slightly against the bench. "Yeah…that's a pretty clear signal he wants you to leave," he said thoughtfully. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"He only wants me to move out so he can fuck Veneziano on every available hard surface," Gilbert muttered under his breath and Matthew went red, resisting the urge to clap his hands over his eyes. He did _not_ need that mental image.

"So, what'll you do, Gilbert?" Matthew prompted again.

Gilbert gave him a bland look. "Isn't it obvious? I'm just going to have to move in with _you_," he said.

"Huh." Matthew blinked, ran a hand through his hair. "Alright then."

"'Alright then'?" Gilbert said, a bit incredulously, staring at him. "You're not going to try and protest or anything? You're more of a pansy than I thought, Matthew!"

"Well, you practically live with me _anyway_!" Matthew snarked back, showing a flash of the attitude he didn't display around the other countries, save Alfred (who he argued with quite often). "I can't go into any room in the house without stumbling over _something_ that belongs to you! And plus, you've been sleeping over more and more lately."

Gilbert paused, sized him up, before a grin spread over his face. "Well, good point, you punk." His hand came down on Matthew's hair, ruffling it. "It's not too big of a difference at all, I guess."

"I might have to buy a bed or something," Matthew mumbled, thoughtfully, "if you come to live with me."

"I definitely am! Pancake breakfasts, every day." Gilbert practically drooled.

"Hey, I'm not going to be at your beck-and-call!" Matthew retorted.

"You're gonna learn to make me meals like a good wife!" Gilbert exclaimed and smacked him on the back with an open palm. "You'd better get used to it!"

Matthew made a face at him.

"Oh, and don't bother getting another bed. I like yours," Gilbert declared, lifting his chin slightly. "I won't be able to sleep as well. Your pillows are awesome. Almost as awesome as me."

"Why, thank you," Matthew muttered. "I don't want to keep sharing a bed, though."

"Eh, suck it up!" He received a snort for his complaints, and then another playful ruffle to his hair. Despite himself, Matthew found himself grinning and gently shoved at the elder man's chest.

"Then, when will you move in?"

"As soon as I make West move my stuff," Gilbert said, grinning at him.

"Who's moving where?" A sudden voice asked behind them and both of them jumped slightly. A blond head poked between theirs and Gilbert wrinkled up his nose in annoyance, shifting backwards slightly. "Well?"

"Oh, Alfred, what are you doing out here? Weren't you having lunch with Arthur?" Matthew said, trying to change the subject.

"Eh, Iggy was prattling on about something—I couldn't be bothered anymore. You aren't happy to see me, Mattie?" Alfred put on an upset face, leaning his arm on top of his brothers' head, making it bow slightly. "I'm hurt." He focused his bright blue gaze on Gilbert, who looked irately back. "So, who's moving where?"

"Nosy bastard, aren't you?" Gilbert said, raising his eyebrows.

Alfred blinked, and then grinned. "The hero has to know all," he declared grandly. "So, c'mon! I'll just figure it out anyway!" He noogied Matthew, ignoring the Canadian's muffled protests.

"_I'm_ moving in with _Matthew_," Gilbert told him at last when Alfred had released his brothers' head.

"Huh?" Alfred blinked. "Why?"

"Because Germany wants him to move out," Matthew put in lightly. Alfred cocked his head to the side, a bit puzzled. "Gilbert says it has something to do with Italy." He barely managed to push back a blush.

"Ohh," Alfred said, as though he knew what they were talking about. He eyed Gilbert, and then looked at Matthew. "Better not tell Mommy or he'll have a fit."

"And you won't?" Matthew said dryly. He added mentally, _'And Arthur's not 'Mommy', you idiot.'_

"Nah! It's your business if you wanna get your boyfriend—" Alfred smushed Matthew's cheeks together with his fists, making the Canadian squint angrily and make a series of muffled annoyed noises "—to move in with you!"

"I'm not his boyfriend," Gilbert grumbled.

"Sure," Alfred said, grinning. "That's why you're going to move in with him, right? You could buy your own place, but _no_."

Matthew swatted Alfred's hands away from his now-sore cheeks, rubbing them and glaring a bit at the blond. "We're not _boyfriends_, Alfred," he told him firmly. "Now leave us alone."

"Whaaaat!" Alfred's lips twitched into a pout. "You're so mean, Mattie. And here your caring brother has given you his permission and approval to turn your place into a cold northern shack of love!" Matthew spluttered indignantly and shoved at him and Alfred stumbled backwards, laughing loudly and placing his hands on his hips.

"Don't _say_ stuff like that!" Matthew said, shivering as though the words made him physically ill. "Cold northern shack of love…honestly, Alfred. You've been hanging around Francis too much."

Alfred merely grinned at him.

"Hey, Brit at twelve o'clock," Gilbert drawled, pointing with one finger. Both North American countries turned their heads, seeing the short-statured man approaching with an angry expression.

"You just walked off while we were mid-conversation!" Arthur exploded as he stopped in front of Alfred. "To come outside and talk to…" He turned his head. "…Prussia!"

"And Mattie," Alfred said helpfully. Arthur blinked at him, and then looked back at the bench.

"He's right here, you fucking idiot," Gilbert said and brought his hand down onto the back of Matthew's neck, giving his head a little jiggle. The Canadian squawked (_'What is this? Physically abuse Canada day or something?'_).

"Oh, Matthew." Arthur's expression grew less taut, softened somewhat, even looking a bit guilty. "Sorry about that, lad."

"Don't mention it," Matthew said, waving a hand lightly.

"_Anyway_, Alfred! Doesn't change the fact we were in the middle of talking!" Arthur barked, looking up at the American, who waved his hands back and forth with a grin, leaning away from the Briton's wrath. "Honestly, you've gotten so bloody rude!"

"Arthur, _chiiiill_," Alfred groaned. "I'll come back inside, so just _relax_." He looked over at Matthew and winked. "Have fun with your shack business, bro."

"Alfred," Matthew growled.

Arthur turned and walked back inside with an annoyed noise, leaving Alfred to follow. He waved over his shoulder at his brother with a conspiratorial wink.

"Honestly…" Matthew slipped his fingers under his glasses and—in a gesture reminiscent of Arthur—rubbed between his eyes with his fingers.

"Yeah, we aren't boyfriends, you're my wife," Gilbert said, lazily slinging his arms over the backs of the bench.

"Wh—no I'm not! I should have never said that before, you're taking it way too seriously, Gilbert!" Matthew complained. He rooted in the plastic bag at his side for the rest of his lunch.

"You said it first, not me," Gilbert said, grinning and swatting the back of his neck. "Now you're just gonna have to live with it."

Matthew groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead. _'What've I gotten myself into?'  


* * *

_


	3. In which the Rules are ignored

This chapter is comprised mostly of sheer _fluff_. First physical contact that goes a bit beyond platonic and Gilbert starts to develop a soft spot and does something nice (gasp!). Yeah, I'm just churning them out today, aren't I?

* * *

The first night that Gilbert had decided 'Hey, I think I'm gonna sleep over at this guy's house and get pancakes in the morning, that'd be awesome!' there were Rules set. Capital letter and everything. He had refused the couch (it was too tiny and cramped for either of them, both of them fairly tall and not 'fuckin' short'—as Gilbert had said—like Arthur) and the floor, and Matthew—surprisingly stubborn—had refused to give up his bed.

So, Gilbert had demanded and nagged and persisted and Matthew had eventually given up and said "fine, you can stay in my bed, but we're laying down some Rules first."

The first: there was no crossing of No Man's Land. Or, the middle of the bed, as Matthew called it.

The second: there was to be no _jerking off_. Matthew had said this as he stared hard at Gilbert, who had looked away and scratched his hair. And if Gilbert tried it, Matthew would show him exactly why he was so good at hockey.

The third: no physical contact. No groping, no poking, no punching or kicking or hair tugging or clamping Matthew's nose shut to wake him up at 3 AM to cook pancakes (which had happened before, something the Canadian didn't want a repeat performance of). That also applied to anything like cuddling—not that Gilbert liked that kind of thing, but, hell, look at Matthew! He carried that bear around with him half the time; he _had_ to be a cuddling person!

So, those Rules had been in place for a good year and a half, even after Gilbert moved in. And, the Prussian thought as he squinted up at the ceiling, they were kind of stupid now that he thought about it.

I mean, hell, the Canadian himself had claimed he was the 'wife' (though he had said it partially in jest, Gilbert had ignored any protests thereafter about his position in _their_ house).

He had been a good one so far, making meals (though he demanded Gilbert cook once in a while which the former country of Prussia did _very_ grudgingly), cleaning and keeping everything tidy despite Gilbert's honest efforts to make everything messy. He did all that, yet kept that invisible wall up in the middle of the bed.

Gilbert squinted his red eyes and looked over at the back of the sleeping blond. _'Hmmmm…'_ Hey, what kind of wife didn't want to cuddle with their 'husband'?

Of course the tough, awesome, cool and amazing Prussia didn't like to cuddle. But _Matthew_ probably did, and, c'mon, who wouldn't feel honored waking up in his arms?

So, Gilbert set to the arduous, careful task of scooting closer. For some reason, he felt as though there might be alarms or traps strung up over No Man's Land and they might trigger as soon as he got a toe over it. There might. Matthew was a tricky bastard and difficult to anticipate. His fingers crawled over the mattress very, very slowly to the middle of the bed, which had no indentations from sleeping bodies. He was almost wincing as he pushed his fingertips across.

There was no sudden roar of Mounties at the doors or explosions from mines possibly hidden in the mattress. Gilbert opened his eyes (he hadn't shut them from being afraid, really) and lifted his head slightly. Matthew was still fast asleep, and he could see the profile of the man's face, wayward curl drawn in and blown away with every one of his breaths.

Gilbert grinned a little, rolling over cautiously as his body crossed No Man's Land and into the enemy's territory. One of his arms lifted slightly under the blankets, fingers wiggling as they extended towards the pillow clasped in Matthew's arms (_'Definitely a cuddler, look at 'im!'_). He began to pry it loose, but thankfully the clasp of Matthew's arms was light. He sighed a little in his sleep, however, as it was pulled away and Gilbert moved the pillow carefully to the empty bed behind his body.

Unconsciously, the Canadian wriggled, rolling over to face Gilbert, and the man blinked down at him, surprised. One of his arms had lifted, hanging like a puppet on the end of a string, hand finding a warm waist before sliding over it. Matthew snuggled slightly into him and Gilbert stiffened, blinking.

Sure, yeah, he had anticipated the cuddling, but not immediately like that. "Huh," he mumbled quietly, looking down at the top of a blond head, nestling slightly against his chest. Any thoughts he had about teasing Matthew in the morning about latching on while he was asleep promptly fled, though he wasn't sure why.

Awkwardly at first, Gilbert slid his arms around him, around his waist with his hands folding together and settling at the small of his back. Matthew shifted slightly, the top of his head bumping Gilbert's chin lightly, and the man puffed some of the hair away from his mouth and nose—it tickled, damn it.

"Mnn," Matthew mumbled contentedly in his sleep and he nuzzled his head into Gilbert's chest. Gilbert's arms tightened slightly around him and he felt oddly, strangely comfortable. It was way warmer, having two bodies close like this, but it was progressing towards autumn, so it wasn't stifling like it would have been a month or two ago.

Gilbert sighed a bit, let his chin fall slightly on top of Matthew's head, his eyelids feeling heavy all of a sudden. This was way too relaxing—way too comfortable. _'Probably slipped something into the maple syrup,'_ he thought, letting his eyes closed. _'That bastard's a sly one…'_ His thoughts trailed off into darkness and peace and quiet, body relaxing in sleep.

* * *

Matthew yawned slowly as he stirred, blinking open his blue-violet eyes drowsily. The bed next to him was empty (weird, considering that Gilbert liked to sleep in and wake up to a pancake breakfast) and he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He couldn't remember what he dreamed about last night, but it must have been good, because he hadn't felt as well-rested as he did in a long while.

He yawned expansively, and then caught a whiff of something that smelled good. Matthew blinked, combing a hand through sleep-rumpled hair and sliding his feet out of bed.

"Hey! No, get your feet the hell back in there!" a voice exclaimed from the door and Matthew looked up in surprise. Gilbert was standing there, gripping a tray in his hands and scowling and was that—a _blush_ on his face? Matthew rubbed his eyes and it was gone. _'Of course it was a hallucination.'_

"What's that?" the Canadian asked bemusedly, but slid his feet back under the blankets all the same.

"The hell d'you think it is," Gilbert grumbled, walking over to the bed and gripping the tray with tight hands. "It's breakfast. Stupid." The last part was added on for the benefit of his own shriveling pride. Matthew looked up at him with a puzzled, though grateful, little smile.

"You made breakfast?" Matthew said, raising his eyebrows as the tray was placed in his lap. "For me?"

"No, I made it for England's freaking fairies," Gilbert scoffed and turned his back to him, arms folding over his chest.

'_He's wearing my apron,'_ Matthew thought with quiet amusement as he looked down at the food. Wurst, of course, and slightly burnt-around-the-edges but still good-looking pancakes slathered with syrup. And some clumsily chopped up cantaloupe, balanced precariously on one corner of the plate. "Thank you, Gilbert. It looks great."

"Course it does," Gilbert proclaimed arrogantly, though his back was still turned to Matthew. "I made it, after all! You'd better be damn grateful!" He shot a look over his shoulder as the blond began to eat, smiling all the while.

'_Old Man Fritz,'_ Gilbert thought, tearing his gaze away from Matthew, still looking sleepy and far too cute to be allowed, and scratching his hair, _'I think I'm turning into a sentimental pansy.'  


* * *

_


	4. In which the parent is told

A family chapter. XD I just like writing Alfred and Matthew interacting, and Arthur, of course.  


* * *

"I can't believe you're gonna go talk to Mom about this," Alfred said as he walked alongside Matthew. It was a surprisingly nice day in London as they made their way along the side of the road towards Arthur's home. It was a little dry, but the two didn't seem to notice.

"Of course I'm going to talk to Arthur about this—what if he comes over one day and all he sees is Gilbert, in the kitchen, or drinking beer on the couch at two in the afternoon?"

"When does Arthur _ever_ come over to your house?" Alfred asked him with a grin.

"He came over a couple of months ago!" Matthew defended himself.

"Yeah, because he got _lost_ on the way to _my_ house."

Matthew reached over, promptly punching his brother in the shoulder. Alfred yelped.

"Hey! Hey, that was a _hard_ punch!" He reached over to shove at Matthew, but his hands were caught and the Canadian grinned darkly. "That's not fair, man. Low blow. _Low blow_."

"Well, it's what you get for implying that Arthur likes _you_ more than _me_," Matthew said and squeezed Alfred's hands. Alfred squeezed right back and they squinted at each other, beginning to push each other, trying to see who'd give up first.

"I'd be happy if he'd like you more than me! You're the momma's boy, after all!" Alfred said, grinning and tightening his grip. Matthew glared slightly at him, tightening his grip right back and starting to push the other blond back along the sidewalk.

"I am not the 'momma's boy'."

"'No, Arthur, I'm not gonna be in the war'," Alfred said in a high voice that was apparently meant to sound like Matthew. "One week later: 'I'll be in the war now, Arthur!' You are _definitely_ a momma's boy." Matthew growled and squeezed tight with his fingers. "Ow! Ow-ow-ow! Mercy, mercy!" Huffing, the wavy-haired blond let go and straightened up. "Jeez, all that hockey does wonders for your hands. You nutcase."

"M'not a momma's boy," he mumbled, sullenly.

Alfred grinned and slapped his back with an open palm. "Whatever gets you to sleep at night, Mattie."

They resumed their walk, seeing Arthur's house up ahead, just like Matthew remembered. He blinked back a rush of nostalgia, sliding his hands into his pockets as he trod towards it. "Um, thanks for coming with me, Alfred."

"Huh?" Alfred blinked over at him, and then grinned. "Aw, you always were the sentimental one." He ruffled Matthew's hair. "C'mon, what kind of hero would I be if I didn't go with my brother to talk to the fire-breathing dragon about his boyfriend?"

"Not my boyfriend, Al," Matthew cut in.

"You know, I doubt that," Alfred said, grinning. "I mean, c'mon. He's been coming over to your house for _how long_ before he decided he was suddenly going to move in?"

"A while—but he always said it was just for pancakes."

"Didn't he stay the whole day?"

Matthew chewed his lip. "And sometimes overnight," he admitted. "Well, now he's around all the time, so…"

"Awfully suspicious to me," Alfred said with a laugh.

"Al, this is _Gilbert_ we're talking about. He's about as affectionate as Arthur is. I can't really take anything he says or does as anything but something he just _wants to do_ on a whim. I can't start thinking that he likes me." Matthew rubbed at his cheek, ducking his head, his shoulders slumping a bit. "I can't really get my hopes up."

Alfred blinked with sudden sympathy. "Aw, Mattie." He slung an arm around Matthew's shoulders, squeezing him against his side. "Cheer up, gloomy! You're always so pessimistic about stuff."

"Not everything," Matthew mumbled, but he smiled all the same. They walked up the driveway to Arthur's front door, Alfred dropping his arm but nudging the other blonds' shoulder. Matthew nudged back, and by the time they knocked on the door, Arthur opened it up to the two of them, back-to-back, trying to push the other over.

"What are you two doing?" Arthur asked, lifting his thick eyebrows, apparently able to see Matthew perfectly well today.

"Ngh—strength contest!" Alfred grunted, pushing. Matthew dug his heels into the ground, eyes screwed up in concentration. "The hero—always—wins."

Arthur reached out and pushed the both of them so that they stumbled apart. "You two are so foolish," he scolded. "What are you here for?" He blinked between them.

"Tea?" Matthew said with a little smile.

"I don't want to have _tea time_," Alfred mumbled. "Can't we just tell him on the doorstep, Mattie?"

"No," replied his twin succinctly. "May we come in, Arthur?"

"Of course, my boy," Arthur answered, pulling open the door slightly. Matthew beamed and stepped inside, Alfred following with great reluctance (accompanied by a muttered "momma's boy") and kicking his boots off into the corner. Arthur scowled lightly at him but he grinned and shrugged.

When they entered the living room, Arthur directed them to sit. "I'll make tea," he said, lips curling. Alfred watched him as he left and then grinned over at Matthew.

"He should just marry it," he said.

"Al," Matthew said and swatted his side. Alfred laughed. It didn't take long for Arthur to return with tea and a plate of scones (something neither of the two were particularly eager to try) and after a few minutes, they were all drinking (Alfred merely looked at his cup as if it were going to bite him).

"So," Arthur said cheerily, "what brings you two here today? You haven't visited in forever." Here he seemed to become rather melancholy and Matthew cleared his throat delicately.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something, Arthur, since you're an important person to me…" Arthur looked at him, surprised, before his eyes started to water.

"You made the old man cry," Alfred hissed out of the corner of his mouth before raising his voice. "Arthur, Mattie's in love and he wants your blessings for his marriage."

"WHAT?" both Arthur and Matthew yelled at the same time, rounding on him.

"Damn it, Al! I am _not_ getting married! Can I escape that _anywhere_!?"

"In _love_?" Arthur lamented. "Tell me it's not Francis. Tell me it's not that bloody sodding _frog_."

Matthew looked at him. "Arthur, surely you know I have better taste than that." Arthur looked at him for a moment, studying his face before sinking back in his chair, looking equal parts shocked and surprisingly sad.

"Aren't you a bit young to be in love?" Arthur said, squinting slightly at him.

"I'm one hundred and forty-two," Matthew said evenly. Arthur sighed noisily.

"In love," he mumbled. "Are you going to tell me who?"

Alfred and Matthew looked at each other, wondering exactly how his reaction may be. Arthur caught their look and frowned slightly. "Well? Who?"

"It's kind of…" Matthew paused, scratched his cheek.

"It's Prussia," Alfred said helpfully. Matthew winced slightly and Arthur's eyes widened.

"The kraut?" he yelped. "The one who's not a nation anymore, but who's always hollering about how awesome he is and how he's going to invade others' vital regions?"

"That was a long time ago," Matthew mumbled. A couple of years, but still.

"The very same," Alfred said cheerfully, his blue eyes shining. He looked as though he were having fun.

"No," Arthur said stiffly. "I won't allow it."

Matthew spluttered and looked at him, raising his eyebrows incredulously. "You can't _not allow_ my feelings, Arthur," he stated. The British man looked to the side stubbornly, lips pressed together.

"He's almost as bad as France!" Arthur moaned, pressing his face into his hands. Matthew sighed and scratched his hair, wondering how he was supposed to continue.

"He's moved in with Mattie," Alfred said, grinning.

"_What_?" Arthur exclaimed, snapping his eyes up to Matthew's face. "What—what—_why_? Matthew!"

"Um, well, Germany wanted him to move out, and he said he wanted to move in with me for the pancake breakfasts, and I didn't see a reason to say no, so…" Matthew trailed off.

"Didn't see a reason to…oh, _Matthew_," Arthur groaned, massaging his forehead. "You're being bullied, aren't you?" He straightened up, looking a bit grim, and Matthew shivered. "I'll go and take care of him right away." He moved to stand, but the Canadian shifted over quickly, gripping his shoulders and preventing him from rising.

"I _want_ him around, Arthur," Matthew said, gazing at his face with a tentative little smile. "Sure, he's brash and he doesn't think before opening his mouth." He paused, glanced over at Alfred, who promptly bristled.

"I know what you're thinking, Matt, and don't you dare compare him to me! _I'm_ the hero!"

"And maybe he's just using me to occupy himself until he finds something better to entertain him, but…" Matthew paused and bit his lip. "I don't know. He recognizes me, he gets annoyed on behalf of me, and even if he doesn't feel the same way, I sort of kind of love him, Arthur." He looked down at the British man, who had stopped straining against his grip and slumped back in the chair. Matthew sat down after a moment.

"Really?" Arthur asked after a moment, still rubbing his forehead. "You still l…feel that way even though he's so…" He waved a hand vaguely.

"Mmhm." Matthew nodded slightly.

"Well, I guess I can't do much, then." Arthur leant his chin on his palms, defeated. "All I can do is wish you good luck with it." Matthew's face brightened, and Arthur lifted a finger sternly. "However, if he does _anything_ to hurt you, I want you to tell me _immediately_ and I'll take care of it." He lifted his chin, furrowing his eyebrows. "You understand?"

"Yes," Matthew said and laughed, smiling broadly. "Thank you, Arthur."

Alfred grinned and folded his arms over his chest, his eyes gleaming, and Matthew looked over at him warily. "Oh, Matthew'll get that guy, don't you worry, Arthur." He flashed all of his teeth in a radiant smile. Matthew squinted.

"Don't get involved, you'll probably mess it up," Arthur said sternly.

"Psh! If Matt ever wants to get down-and-dirty—" Here both Arthur and Matthew winced, for different reasons "—with that guy, he'll need the hero's help." Alfred winked.

"No, um, thank you, Al. I'm afraid of what might happen if you got involved."

"Eh? What? Matt, you can't just say 'no'!"

"Ah, I just did. Please, stay out of the way."

"That's it! I'll fight you, and if I win, you have to let me help!"

"Bring it on!"

"You two!"  


* * *


	5. In which there are video games

I couldn't _not_ have Korea and China show up in this fic. XD Considering that they go over to Matthew's house all the time (Asian BFFs?). Also, they are playing a random multiplayer, unnamed shooter game because I am too lazy to try and see if there's a real one in existence. Haha. Well, I'm not quite sure what do to about the next chapter…who else should show up in this fic…?

* * *

Matthew tried to make himself comfortable on the floor, the small couch currently being hogged by his three 'guests', though admittedly one was less like a guest and more like the other owner of the house. He grunted as a foot collided with his head and squinted over his shoulder for the perpetrator.

"Sorry," Im Yong Soo said with a grin, pulling his feet in and not looking sorry at all. "Just trying to get comfy! Aniki, can I use your lap?" Yao peered over at him narrowly.

"No, use your own space. You've got plenty, aru."

"And stop moving around, you're kicking the hell outta all of us," Gilbert griped. "Why are you two even _here_?"

"Why are _you_ here, aru? We've come here for _ages_," Yao said, eyeing him as though he were some sort of rival. Yong Soo rustled about in a plastic bag he had brought with him, producing a couple of games he began to chatter on to Matthew about, successfully snaring the Canadian's attention.

"—just came out with these; seriously, these are practically the best games that have originated from Korea—"

"Ages, huh?" Gilbert sized the Chinese man up, folding his arms across his chest slowly. "Well, I live here now since I decided to move out of West's house." He flashed his teeth in an arrogant grin. "So, just think of this room as 'New Prussia'."

"—eally? Sounds like good game-play, but is it in Korean? You know I don't know that much—"

"New Prussia?" Yao raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you've let Canada know that his living room is now New Prussia, have you, aru?"

"—worry about it! I got it translated, see, pop in the disk—"

"Eh, he'll be fine with it." Gilbert waved a hand dismissively. "Anyway, don't get too comfortable, because I'm watching you." He eyed Yao with a keen red gaze.

"—oh, nice translation! I'm impressed, Yong Soo."

"Haha~ Efficient translations originated in Korea." Yong Soo drew himself up smugly and turned his head, grinning at Yao. "Here's _your_ controller, aniki, and _yours_, Matthew…" He blinked over at Gilbert, raising his eyebrows a bit. "Do you want to play, too?"

"Huh?" Gilbert blinked down at the controller proffered to him, then looked at Matthew.

"You've played video games before, right?" Matthew said with a questioning grin.

"Hahaha, of course! Don't underestimate the awesome me!" Gilbert snorted, snatching the controller. "I just haven't played…this one." He squinted down at the controller, turning it and wondering how exactly he was supposed to hold the thing.

"Flip it, aru," Yao said helpfully. Gilbert glowered over at him, but did so. Matthew commandeered his attention, pointing at the screen and illustrating how to move, pick your gun and so on and do forth.

"Finally, it won't be two against one for once," Matthew said with a little grin. "Oh, nice, the gun designs are really cool, Yong Soo." He glanced over at the Korean, who grinned smugly at the praise.

"Of course," he bragged. "Even Japan's games aren't as good. He copied them from me anyway." How he could hold and manipulate his character while still having his hands buried somewhere in the sleeves of the hoodie he was wearing, Matthew had no idea. It was some sort of mystery.

"Let's just start already, aru," Yao said in exasperation, before Yong Soo could _really_ get going about his video games. He looked over at Gilbert, who stared back, and sparks seemed to leap between their eyes before they looked determinedly at the television.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Matthew stood up from the floor, placing his hands in the small of his back to crack it. It was break time—and Gilbert had really gotten good at the game. He seemed to have some sort of silent competition going with Yao, but whatever got him pumped up. "Drinks?" he asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Tea, please," Yao said simply. Yong Soo leapt to his feet, grinning, sleeves trailing.

"I'll make it!" he volunteered as he trotted after Canada.

"Beer!" Gilbert called.

"It's too early for beer!" Matthew protested, popping his head out of the kitchen.

"Beer," Gilbert said again, firmly. Matthew rolled his eyes lightly as he stepped into the kitchen. Yong Soo had already put on the kettle and prepared a mug for the tea, flashing him a toothy grin as he walked over to pull the requested beer from the fridge.

"It's nice you've got company now!" Yong Soo said to him, pulling back his droopy sleeves a little bit to grasp a can of soda. Matthew blinked at him as he got his own soda. "Right?"

"Mm." Matthew's expression softened some as he pulled down a tall glass for the beer. "Yeah. It's nice having Gilbert around."

"Are you and him like aniki and I?" Yong Soo asked, grinning as he turned off the damper to pour up the tea. In the living room, Matthew could faintly hear conversation, though couldn't pick out any distinctive words.

"I don't think so," Matthew said, scratching his hair. "Actually, I don't even know what you and Yao are." Yong Soo narrowed his dark eyes thoughtfully and poured the water in the cup with a strange, practiced ease.

"I dunno either," he said at last, grinning blithely. He held the teacup in one hand, the other gripping his can and walked towards the living room. Matthew lingered in the kitchen for a few moments longer, gazing down at the beer in the tall glass in quiet contemplation.

'_Yeah, I'm not so sure about what we are. We're not exactly roommates, and I kind of love Gilbert, so that makes everything tricky.'_ Matthew had done his best not to let it interfere whenever he interacted with the older man, however, keeping it to himself as he had always done with his most important feelings in the past. He lifted up the glass at last, joining the others in the living room. Gilbert flashed a grin as he accepted the drink and Matthew sat at the floor at his feet.

'_Though, Yong Soo's not that different from me.'_ He glanced over, to where Yong Soo was practically hovering over Yao, grinning and waiting the response for when the Chinese man drank his tea.

"Stop staring, aru," Yao mumbled. "It's going to be as fine as always."

'_Maybe a bit different. There's more affection there.'_ Matthew found himself smiling, however, taking a heavy swallow from his can and setting it lightly on the table. Gilbert's feet knocked against his back idly and he paused as elbows rested on top of his head, not the points (thankfully, because those hurt when he was jabbed with them). He peered slightly upwards, but was unable to see the face of the other man from this angle.

"Let's kick their asses this time," Gilbert's voice said decisively, and Matthew could hear the grin in it. He smiled and picked up his controller, hearing the soft 'clink' as Yao set aside his teacup for the moment. He flexed his fingers slightly in preparation.

* * *

"Are you sure you guys don't want to stay for some late supper or something?" Matthew asked as he stood by the door, where they were pulling on their coats. Yong Soo made a great show of practically wrapping his face up with a scarf (_'Sure, it's Fall but it's not even that cold yet,'_ the Canadian thought) and Yao blinked at him, zippering up his jacket.

"We wouldn't want to intrude any longer, aru," Yao said, glancing pointedly towards the living room, where Gilbert had remained, with the television blasting something pointlessly in the background.

Matthew blinked rapidly. "Eh? Intrude? Don't be silly."

Yao studied his face for a moment, expression thoughtful, hand lifted slightly to his mouth. Then, he smiled broadly, apparently amused by something. "No, we'd be intruding, aru. We can just have something to eat at my house. Are you ready yet, Yong Soo?"

Yong Soo bounced on one foot, struggling to get the other in its shoe. "You said _we_, didn't you, aniki?" he asked eagerly, managing to wrestle it on. He followed Yao as the older man waved his hand slightly in farewell before stepping out into the cool night air. Yong Soo turned back briefly, waving his sleeve enthusiastically. "See ya! Good luck!"

"Oh, um, thanks!" Matthew waved slightly after them, watching them until they were in their car and out of view before shutting the door. He rubbed his cheek with a smile before walking into the living room, pausing. The older man was sprawled out over the couch, his eyes shut, mouth hanging slightly open. "What, you fell asleep already? Here I thought you said the couch was too tiny to sleep on…"

He carded a hand through his hair, walking to the closet and pulling down a blanket. He shut off the television and unfolded the blanket, stretching it over Gilbert's body. Matthew smiled a little before gathering up all the garbage remaining, taking it to the kitchen and tossing it away, making sure everything was all tidied up.

Matthew moved for the stairs after the cleaning-up was done but paused. He hesitated only for a moment before walking back into the living room quietly. He studied Gilbert's face, lax and content in sleep and smiled to himself, shutting off all but one of the lamps. Then, he assured the blanket was in place, tucking it slightly around his body. As he did, he stopped, gazing down.

'_You shouldn't, Matt. What if he wakes up? That sort of stuff always happens in situations like these.'_ The Canadian leaned over slowly, however, fingers lightly brushing some of the pale hair away from Gilbert's forehead and closed eyelids. _'You're going to get yourself in serious trouble one of these days, Matthew Williams. If you haven't already.'_

He abruptly lost his nerve, not wanting to take something when he could hope for it to be freely given sometime in the future. Instead, he brushed a feather-light kiss across the exposed forehead. Straightening up, Matthew smiled a little to himself. "Goodnight, Gilbert," he said under his breath before shuffling quietly out of the room.

Red eyes opened a slit, silently watching as the Canadian disappeared around the corner, ears listening to his footsteps fade up the stairs.

* * *


	6. In which the best friends are approving

Thanks, all, for all the reviews so far! When I start something, I pretty much plow right through it without breaks because then I lose my muse. XD  
Well, **bitter green tea**, I'm taking your suggestion. I've never really written Spain or France in depth, but I thought it'd be pretty funny. XD Also, give Gilbert a chance to figure out exactly what he's feeling. The events mentioned here about the stuffed pandas are from Gilbert's April 1st blog, by the way. 8D  


* * *

"Gilbert!" A bright, jovial voice attracted the man's attention as he walked into the cafeteria, hands shoved casually in his pockets. A little while before, Matthew had apologized to him profusely as they were leaving the conference room before being accosted by his brother and Arthur. They had dragged him off to eat lunch with them for the day, the latter staring holes in him, thick brows practically emitting an evil, threatening aura. Gilbert had half-thought they would shoot a beam that would disintegrate him instantly.

"Eh? Antonio," Gilbert said with a grin as he saw who it was, tilting up his chin in acknowledgement. "And Francis. What's up?"

"_Mon ami,_" Francis lamented dramatically, "It has been forever since we've talked! Or had a drink or went out or _anything_!" He slung an arm across Antonio's shoulders, the Spaniard beaming blithely at Gilbert even while Francis moped internally that his 'friend' had become _settled down_.

Gilbert shrugged dismissively with a lazy grin. "Sorry I haven't graced you guys with my awesome self lately. Been busy." He glanced around at all of the tables, unconsciously, as if searching for Matthew. Francis suddenly looked sly, while Antonio was still smiling broadly.

"With my cute little Matthieu?" the Frenchman said, looking down at his nails. Gilbert stiffened—more at the 'my' than anything—and looked at him keenly, red eyes glinting. "America mentioned that you two were living together now."

"Did you have a fight with Ludwig or something?" Antonio asked with a smile. Gilbert wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to tell the Spanish man that his brother was getting it on with one of Antonio's precious little siblings.

"He was cramping my style," Gilbert said, flapping a hand.

"So, you decided to move in with Matthieu?" Francis said, smiling broadly. He waved for them to follow and led the way over to a table, a glaring Romano staring daggers at him and Antonio (who waved sheepishly) as he passed where he was sitting with Veneziano, Ludwig and Kiku.

"Uh, yeah," Gilbert said after he had flashed a grin at Ludwig and winked pointedly with a head-tilt in Veneziano's direction. To which the German flushed slightly and gave him a half disapproving, half embarrassed stare before looking down at the wurst on his plate. "He makes good food, and he's not bad company."

"Francis says that you're in love," Antonio said cheerily as the three of them moved to sit at a table.

Gilbert's chair screeched loudly as the pale man stumbled abruptly while pulling it out. "_What_?" he spluttered, lifting then furrowing his eyebrows. Francis looked away innocently and Gilbert sat down hard in his chair, practically staring him down. "You know I'm too cool to be in love—and who the hell _with_, anyway?"

"Matthew, of course," Antonio laughed.

"_Eh_!?" Gilbert spluttered. His hand unconsciously went to a certain spot on his forehead, touching it lightly with his fingertips. Francis gave him a curious stare, grinning.

"Oho, did something happen with Matthieu? Hmm, _mon ami_?" Francis asked.

"No!" Gilbert folded his arms across his chest with a glare.

"You sound pretty defensive there," Francis said with a laugh. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you if you tell me something happened. You _will_ take good care of Matthieu, won't you?" He eyed Gilbert suddenly, keenly, something more serious dropping over his expression, and the man remembered Matthew had been his colony once—a long time ago. He resisted the urge to swallow uncomfortably, remembering how Arthur had glared at him.

Gilbert's expression soured. "I don't know why we're talking about this, I'm _definitely_ too awesome for a pussy emotion like," he paused, scoffed, "_love_."

"Love is a wonderful thing!" Antonio exclaimed, bringing his hands together with a beaming smile. "Plus, why else would you have lived with, um…" He paused, screwed up his eyes.

"Matthew," Gilbert grunted, having forgotten for a moment that Canada slipped the mind with an alarming frequency.

"…_Matthew_ for so long," Antonio finished with a grin. "You know that me, or Francis would have taken you in—you could've even gone to stay with _Austria_, but you picked Matthew! Don't you think that says something about your feelings?" He tilted his head to the side.

"I like his food," Gilbert said firmly.

"Sure," Francis said with a smile, eyes glinting. "I bet that's not the only thing you like."

Gilbert spluttered internally, but outside he maintained his normal, cool, unflappable façade. Meaning, he stared at Francis with narrow red eyes and tightened the set of his arms across his chest. "He's cute," he admitted reluctantly.

"You've always had a soft spot for cute things," Francis said, grinning.

"What the hell?"

"That bird," Antonio pointed out and lifted a finger, pointing at Gilbert's head. He blinked and lifted his fingers, pausing when they fell on something feathery and soft instead of the normal texture of his hair.

"Ah! It fucking sat on my head again!" The chick on top of his head cheeped contentedly but Gilbert didn't see a need to get rid of it. He poked it slightly with a finger, enjoying how it felt, before dropping his hand with a hard expression.

Francis laughed loudly. "And when China and Hong Kong got you to buy all those stuffed pandas from them. You couldn't even resist them, could you?" he asked, slyly. "So, it's not surprising you're in _love_ with such a cute country like Matthieu!"

"Who said anything about _love_?" Gilbert said stubbornly. "All I said was that he was kinda cute. Like a puppy or something."

"It's close enough," Antonio said, smiling brightly. "Come on, Gilbert, you can't say you don't like him. You're barely around _us_ anymore and always around—" He paused, screwed his eyes up in thought.

"Matthew," Gilbert offered.

"Yeah, Matthew!" The Spaniard looked relatively content with the track his mind seemed to be chugging along. "You're always around him. We invited you out for drinks last week, but you said no."

"I was already drinking," Gilbert grunted. "Matthew's got some good beer." He flashed a grin. "He out-drank me, too, you know. The bastard thinks he's better than the awesome me." He drew himself up slightly. "But I'm gonna beat him at that."

Francis and Antonio exchanged a look and Gilbert blinked.

"What?"

"That's _love_," Antonio said, his voice filled with energy and almost teasing. "You keep talking about him." His eyes seemed to gentle as he glanced over to where his former charge was yelling something about 'potatoes' and 'bastard' at an exasperated-looking Ludwig. He sighed happily and rested his chin in his palm. "Definitely love, Gilbert."

Francis gave a loud sniffle and pulled a handkerchief out of his sleeve (_'are you some kind of housewife?'_ Gilbert thought, staring at him and raising his eyebrows) to dab at his eyes. "You've grown up, Prussia!" he said. "I never thought I'd see the day where you didn't run around everywhere exclaiming how you were going to invade everyone's vital regions."

Gilbert remained quiet, lifting a hand to scratch slightly at his hair (the chick cheeped and shuffled). "Eh! I'm still gonna invade his vital regions!" He surged out of his chair, lifting a fist into the air. "Just you _watch_! They're gonna belong to me, the great Prussia!" Half the cafeteria looked over towards him before thinking _'oh, just Prussia'_ and looking away again.

"It's not invasion if the invader is willing," Francis sing-songed.

Gilbert swiveled his red gaze onto him with an expression of surprise. "Eh? Willing?"

Antonio smiled broadly and clapped his hands together. "Good for you, Gilbert," he said cheerfully.

"Eh? Hey, I don't get what you bastards are talking about! Wh—get back here, you bastards! Tell me what you mean!"  


* * *


	7. In which a plan is concocted

Beaver tails are not actually beaver tails. XD Look it up if you wanna know what they are. I think these chapters are getting somewhat sillier as I go on (I can't help it, I love writing about this 'family'). Anyway, this one is a direct continuation of the last one. I figure I'll probably wrap the getting-together aspect of this story up in one more chapter, after this one. Then I'll probably add on some more small funny chapters, with all the suggestions I've gotten. ;D

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

"This calls for Something Drastic, Matthew!" Alfred exclaimed, the three of them sitting outside the large conference building on the lip of an enormous fountain. Matthew blinked over at him through a mouthful of beaver tail, chewing rapidly before swallowing thickly and washing it down with a swig of milk.

"What does?" he asked, bemusedly. Arthur seemed a bit exasperated as he finished off the last of his lunch (bought from the cafeteria because he had 'forgotten' to make his own).

"How long has Gilbert been living with you?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More than half of a year, but why—"

"And there hasn't been _anything_!" the American bellowed, throwing his hands up into the air dramatically. "Nothing at all! No getting down and dirty in the shower—" Arthur and Matthew winced in unison "—no flirting, no sexual tension (as far as _you've_ been able to tell), _nada_!" Matthew rubbed his hair sheepishly. He had kept the both of them up to date, because he knew they'd worry otherwise. It was kind of sweet of them to be so concerned, really. Even if this was just like a means of entertainment for Alfred.

"Well, Gilbert hasn't exactly been forthcoming with any sort of affection, you know. I try to be subtle—I pretty much just came out and told him I liked him a couple of weeks ago but he just said something about being awesome so _of course_ I liked him and that was the end of that! What do you expect me to do?"

"That kraut," Arthur sniffed, "has to be an idiot if he can't see what's right in front of him." Matthew turned to him, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushing red with surprise at the unexpected sort-of praise.

"Arthur," he began, voice grateful as Arthur flashed him a rare smile.

"Matt," Alfred cut in disgustedly, "_con-cen-trate_! Arthur, stop flirting with him. He's married, you homewrecker!" He slapped his palm on the table. "Stop gazing soulfully at each other!"

"It wasn't _flirting_, you git! I'm no sodding _homewrecker_!" Arthur roared.

"We weren't _gazing soulfully_ at each other, either!" Matthew growled and promptly punched Alfred in the shoulder. He paused and then added, for good measure, "And I'm not married!"

"Anyway!" Alfred plowed on, ignoring their protests, his blue eyes sparkling somewhat maniacally. "Since you're too much of a timid wuss to grab him and just grope him against a wall, we're gonna have to do something drastic!" Matthew flushed at the thought of trying to shove the older man against the wall to grope him, ducking his head. He wouldn't mind vice versa, but it didn't seem like it was happening anytime soon…

"Like what?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

Alfred grinned. "I call it 'Operation Make Prussia Jealous So He Realizes His Awesome Feelings For Matt And They Finally Get Together!'" he said, thrusting his fist into the air excitedly. Both Matthew and Arthur gave him flat looks, the former raising his eyebrows.

"It's a bit wordy," Matthew said with a sigh. "Couldn't you have come up with something better? I don't want to have to keep saying that over and over…"

Alfred blinked at him and scratched his hair, looking thoughtful. "Well…how about Operation MMA?" he said.

"What's that stand for?" Arthur asked uneasily.

"Make Matt Awesome," Alfred said with a grin. "I mean, I could do that myself." Matthew narrowed his eyes and shifted back in his seat slightly, worried that his brother would try and draw his American flag on his forehead again. "But, we'll just use it since Gilbert's always on about how awesome he is and he can probably make Matt a bit more awesome if they get together. Not as much as me, the hero, though."

"So, how are you going to make him jealous?" Arthur said with a noisy sigh. Alfred squinted thoughtfully and grinned.

"Set up Matt on a fake date, of course!" he exclaimed. "Then tell Gilbert about it so that he follows Matt. He sees them on the date and then—bam! He's struck with jealousy, realizes the full force of his feelings, beats the crap out of the other guy, and carries Mattie off into the sunset on a horse or a dog or one of those yellow chicks, but giant-sized!"

"This sounds dangerous for the other person," Matthew muttered.

"Yeah," Alfred said with a broad smile. Both Arthur and Matthew looked at him expectantly. "What?"

"So, who is it? Who are you going to set Matthew up on a date with?" Arthur demanded, furrowing his eyebrows. "_You_ can't go, because Gilbert would recognize you no matter what you dressed yourself up as."

"Well, what about_ you_, homewrecker?" Alfred asked him cheerily.

"I think Gilbert knows me and Matthew aren't romantically interested in each other," Arthur said flatly. "And if you call me a 'homewrecker' again, I'm going to clobber you, boy."

"How about Cuba?" Matthew suggested and Alfred stared at him.

"No way! I'm not letting that Commie go on a date with you!"

"It's a fake date," Matthew said flatly. _'Don't talk about one of my best friends like that, you jerk, you aren't much better with all of your talking behind other peoples backs and the economic depression—'_

"He'll convert you! He and that other Commie have already stained your flag red with the taint of _communism_!" Alfred declared, bringing his fist down into his palm.

"I don't think Yao would appreciate you talking about him like that when you two are major trade partners," Matthew sighed. "And my flag's always been like that—I'm not a communist." Alfred stuck out his lower lip stubbornly. "Well, I don't know…who else is there? Francis?"

"No!" barked Arthur. "He'd take the 'date' far too seriously and try and do something, I just know it! That frog can't keep his hands to himself." He shivered, glancing around warily as if looking out for said 'frog'.

"How about the Netherlands?" Matthew offered next.

"He'd take it way too seriously, too!" Alfred said with great feeling. "I mean, c'mon, he sends you tons and _tons_ of tulips every year!"

"It's only because I helped his monarchy!" Matthew retorted exasperatedly, pouting a little. "You're being too picky about this, Al!"

The three of them fell silent, all of them running over the various other countries in their heads. Arthur sighed noisily, rubbing his chin, his eyes shut in thought. Alfred scratched his head, squinting his eyes slightly and gnawing the inside of his cheek. Then, at last, Matthew looked at the two of them and tiredly offered, "How about Heracles?"

Arthur blinked at that, exchanged a look with Alfred, and then looked back at the Canadian. "Greece?"

"Yeah, well, why not?" Matthew smiled suddenly. "I've kinda always wanted to go to Greece on a vacation, too!"

Alfred swatted his head, eliciting a pained yelp. "Operation MMA is not an excuse for you to go on vacation, Mattie! This is serious business!" He paused and looked to the side, scratching his cheek with his finger. He was silent for a few moments before adding in a lower tone, "…Though, I kinda wanna go to Greece, too, now that you mention it."

"Is this just an excuse for a vacation for you two?" Arthur said exasperatedly. Internally, he thought he wouldn't really mind going to Greece, either, and noted mentally to pack a few things he may need.

"Well…" Matthew smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I get along well enough with Heracles, too, and if I told him the entire plan, I'm sure he wouldn't mind helping out."

"Hmm." Alfred rubbed his chin, squinting slightly. "Well, he seems laid-back enough to not try anything…even if he _does_ have sex the most in the world…"

They both looked at Arthur, who scratched the side of his neck with a heavy sigh. "Well, I guess it's alright so long as you explain to him _everything_ in this plan. Don't leave anything out." He looked at Alfred, raising a brow, and then looked at Matthew.

"Let's go find him, then!" Alfred cheered, excited for his heroic operation to get underway.

* * *

"Well, I don't mind." Heracles seemed as laid-back about the whole thing as Matthew thought he'd be, blinking at them and scratching hair rumpled slightly from sleep. He had been napping in the main conference room on one of the settees by a large window, and hadn't been too disgruntled in the least about Alfred interrupting his snooze. It hadn't taken him too long to see Matthew, either (which gave hope to the Canadian that soon, very soon, everyone may notice him—Arthur seemed to be able to see him practically every day now!).

"I'd be really very grateful if you did this favor for me," Matthew said to him with a smile as the other man yawned a little and shifted where he sat. "And it'd just be for one day, so I wouldn't be troubling you for too long. I'm just at the end of my rope; it's hard for me to just come out and tell Gilbert how I feel."

"I don't mind," Heracles said again, relaxed, lifting a hand slightly in reassurance. "You both want to visit my house too, don't you? Not just for this favor?" He blinked at them.

"It's really nice in Greece," both Alfred and Matthew agreed at once. Heracles seemed pleased at that, but sleepily so, his eyes half-lidded and mouth opening in a yawn before closing slowly.

"Okay. I'll help you out with your…" Heracles looked at Alfred questioningly.

"Heroic Operation MMA!" Alfred declared loudly, pumping his fists excitedly.

"Mm, that," Heracles said with a nod before resting his heavy-lidded gaze on Matthew. "For our fake-date, come over this Saturday, I'll meet you at the airport. The weather's supposed to be nice, so a visit to Acropolis will be good…then, we can go get something to eat. I know a couple of good restaurants." He yawned slightly, leaning his head back against the settee, apparently ready to go right back to sleep.

"Oh, um, thanks," Matthew said with a surprised blink, amazed by how quickly Heracles had come up with the plan for the not-a-date. Heracles had always liked the ancient historical things, though, didn't he, the Canadian recalled. "I don't want you to go too out of your way, though…"

"Mmhmm, it's okay, I'm not," Heracles mumbled, eyes closed. "Still should be nice, though, even if it's not real."

"Thanks again for this, Heracles. I'll leave you to sleep," Matthew said with a grateful grin, clasping his hands together and nodding to him gratefully. One lazy eye opened slightly as Heracles nodded back absentmindedly before letting it slide shut again. Then, not wanting to disturb the Greek any longer, he pulled on Alfred's sleeve, tugging him out of the room.

"Awesome," Alfred said with a grin. "Operation MMA is a-go!" He paused. "As of Saturday. Dude, we gotta get some new shirts."

"I'll have to get something nice to put on for the not-a-date if Heracles is trying so hard for it too. Cuba told me it's no good wearing Hawaiian shirts if Hawaii isn't your destination, you know."

"Eh? Seriously? Huh…I need to get a _lot _of new shirts, then…"

* * *


	8. In which the plan is put into motion

"Gilbert, hey…Gilbert, wake up, please?"

"Mmngh." The man cracked open a sleepy red eye, gazing blearily up at Matthew, who was already fully dressed next to the bed. And rather nicely dressed, too, his sleep-addled mind supplied, in a pretty button-down shirt and ironed dress pants. "Whassit? S'too early to fuckin' get up…"

"I'll be back by this evening, okay?" Matthew said to him, voice soft. Gilbert squinted sleepily. "I've put some lunch and dinner away for you in the fridge, so all you've got to do is heat it in the microwave. And you know where the maple syrup and ingredients for the pancakes are, right?"

"Th' hell're you goin'," Gilbert grumbled sleepily. "No world meetin' today…"

"Just over to visit Al. He wants my help with his work," Matthew lied easily to him. Arthur already mentioned yesterday that he'd casually mention it to 'the frog' so that Francis would panic and go and tell Gilbert. "I'll be back tonight."

Gilbert rolled over on his stomach with a roll of his shoulders (Matthew stared at his bare, muscular arms appreciatively), yawned, and let his body splay out to take up almost all the bed. "Kay, sure. Yer a doormat, Matthew…let'im do his own work." He was just about asleep as he said it however and was barely conscious when he felt a feather-light brush across his brow. He didn't think much of it, nor of the soft footsteps as Matthew exited the room.

* * *

Matthew hadn't been to Greece in a while. He shaded his eyes slightly with a smile as he stepped off the plane and breathed in the air. Sun beamed down, but it wasn't stifling heat. Heracles had been right in saying that the weather would be nice to go on their not-a-date. He walked towards the terminal, basking in the warmth for a few moments before he entered the cool building.

Heracles was waiting, leaning lightly against the wall. He wasn't dressed up too much, just wearing one of usual t-shirts under his jacket and brown pants. A gray tabby cat was curled contentedly up by his feet and it looked at Matthew curiously as he walked inside, ears twitching.

"Hello," Matthew greeted Heracles as he approached and the man—thankfully—didn't jump in surprise like some did (how he managed to be so invisible, he didn't know), but instead looked down at him with a blink. "Um, it's me, Matthew…"

"I know," Heracles reassured him after a small pause. "Your flight got in early."

"Oh, yeah. You were waiting for me here early, then, too?" Matthew stared curiously at the man, who inclined his head slightly in affirmation.

"Mmn, well…I suppose. It's been a while since anyone visited." Heracles shifted, pushed himself off the wall. "Even Kiku hasn't been by for a while."

"Ah, sorry," Matthew apologized quickly, not sure if he touched a sore spot.

"It's okay. I like being by myself sometimes. I can think about things." He turned, gesturing with a hand for Matthew to follow. "Let's get our not-date started, mm?" He blinked over his shoulder at the blond as he fell into step next to him. "Or should I just call it a date?"

"Well, Al said to just call it a date. I don't know if—or when—Gilbert will show up, so." Matthew shrugged helplessly with a smile. Heracles seemed to take notice of his sudden sullen thoughts about whether or not Prussia would show up at all. Heracles reached over, patting the Canadian's back lightly.

"Don't worry about it," he said simply. "I think he cares about you a lot, too." He blinked slightly, reassuringly, and Matthew beamed at him, surprised by the words but happy to hear them from someone else. It made him feel a bit less pessimistic about what may happen.

"Thanks, Heracles."

* * *

"I can't believe he lied to me," Gilbert growled as he stalked down the stairs off his plane (arrived an hour after Matthew's). Francis walked behind him, taking quiet amusement from the fuming man but also equally worried (_'Matthieu, snatched up by that sex fiend!'_ he fretted). "He said he was going to his _brothers'_! And when I got there, there was nobody home!" Gilbert was practically fuming. "And to have _you_ tell me he's off cavorting over here!"

"_Mon ami_, you must rescue him from the claws of that Greek!" Francis declared, clenching his hand into a fist.

"Yeah!" Gilbert agreed, narrowing his eyes, and then paused abruptly. "Wait a second. Why do I want to do that…?" He bowed his head, scratching at his hair furiously, going through a moment of internal dialogue.

"Because you are in love," Francis said seriously.

Gilbert's face, surprisingly, seemed to gain a small tint of red to it. "It's not love! It's just that I'm not gonna let that guy invade Matthew's vital regions!" he exclaimed.

Francis gave him a disparaging look. Gilbert looked back at him questioningly as they walked inside the terminal. "What? What're you fucking looking at me like that for?"

"Gilbert," Francis said with uncharacteristic seriousness, "you did _not_ get on a plane from Canada to Greece to fetch back Matthieu _just because_ you want to be the first one to 'invade his vital regions'. Not even _you_ would do that, when you've had the opportunity to do it before for ages and ages now."

Gilbert turned his back to him, raking a hand through his pale hair, thinking about it quietly. _'Okay, let's go through this, me. I can't love someone, it's not _awesome_, but…that idiot France is right. I coulda invaded Matthew's vital regions whenever I want—I sleep with him all the time, for god's sake!'_ He groaned a little and rubbed his forehead. "This is too much thinking for the awesome me," he griped to Francis, who looked calmly expectant, one of his eyebrows raised. "I'd rather just concentrate on finding Matthew."

Francis pursed his lips disapprovingly. "I won't give you my blessing to be Matthieu's lover if you don't recognize that you don't just want him for his pancakes and his maple syrup!" he exclaimed, folding his arms stubbornly. "I also won't help you find him."

"I can find him on my own!" Gilbert snapped back.

"Oh, _really_?" Francis raised an eyebrow, coolly expectant. "Then, where exactly will you look first?"

Gilbert hesitated at that, squinting his eyes slightly. "I…I dunno," he said after a couple of minutes, rather defeated.

"Aha! You do need my help!" Francis declared. "And if you want it, you will have to recognize your feelings! Otherwise, I will let Matthieu be wooed by that Greek." He turned his head stubbornly to the side, even as—inside him—he could hardly bear the thought. If this was the only way for Gilbert to stop being a hard-headed idiot, however, he would do it.

"I…" Gilbert paused, screwed up his face as though thinking about it was causing him physical pain. "I…_kind of_…_sort of_…" Francis looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "…dammit, I can't do this, this isn't awesome at all!" He clenched his hands into fists.

"_Mon ami_," Francis said, shaking his head, "_amour_ is the most awesome thing of all."

Gilbert eyed him. "Really?" he asked slowly, a bit skeptically. "It won't make me seem like a sentimental bitch?"

'_Honestly, you're worrying about your image? Prussia, Prussia, Prussia, how…predictable.'_ Francis drew himself up, puffing out his chest slightly. "No, it _won't_! In fact, not admitting you are in love makes you seem like a coward." _'There, I said it! Oho, France, you are fantastique.'_

Gilbert bristled at that. "I'm too awesome to be a coward," he growled. "Fine, I l-l-l…" He squinted up his eyes and heaved out, "love that little pasty-skinned, wavy-haired Canadian pansy bastard!"

Francis was silent. "Not as nice as I would've liked to hear, but it's enough for me! Let's find him!" the Frenchman declared and set off charging through the terminal towards the exit.

When it came to finding cute men/women, his sense was unparalleled!

* * *

Matthew was—dare he say it—having _fun_ on this not-a-date. The Acropolis was amazing to see and, like a true tourist, he spent almost a half hour taking pictures from different angles. Heracles simply stood back, gazing at the weathered stone structures with obvious fondness on his face. He had gained four more cat followers.

"It's really amazing," Matthew complimented him, gazing up at the Parthenon. "I'm not surprised that they call it _the_ Acropolis." He looked over at Heracles, who smiled down at him, pleased by the compliment.

"I like it, too. I can tell you more about it, if you want to listen. We've got a little while before dinnertime, as well." Matthew nodded enthusiastically (Greek history was really interesting, and Heracles seemed to enjoy talking about it) and they wandered until they found a comfortable place to sit. There they settled as Heracles began to talk of the history of each of the buildings, Matthew gazing out at the city that seemed to surround and stretch out from around the Acropolis.

A cat settled on his lap, meowing and stretching lazily in the warm sun, purring deep in its throat. He looked over amusedly at Heracles, who seemed oblivious to the cats situated over his shoulders and on his legs, and set to stroking the fur of the one curled up contentedly.

"The ancient Athenians used to hold a festival a long time ago, called the Panathenaea," Heracles' steady, low voice said as Matthew's eyelids began to droop. He'd left early that morning while having a restless nights' sleep (fretting about what would happen with Gilbert), and sitting like this, warmed by the sun, was making him drowsy. "My mother used to take me to it—it was a magnificent event…Matthew? Are you asleep?"

"Getting there," the Canadian replied drowsily, his head drooping. Heracles made a small noise like a laugh.

"Is it boring you?"

"Not at all," Matthew said, opening his eyes slightly and swallowing a yawn. The noise of the city didn't seem so loud, or maybe he was just tuning it out. "Tell me more about the festival? I'll try to stay awake."

"Mm, alright. But you can go to sleep if you want," Heracles replied easily. "At dawn, the Kanephoros—that was an unmarried woman—would lead a procession up to the Acropolis. It was always so impressive. My mother would have to lift me up on her shoulders just to see—when I got older, I participated in it…"

Matthew's body tilted slightly, leaning sideways until it leaned heavily against the Greek. Heracles blinked down at him, seeing his eyes were closed, and tilted his head slightly. "You fell asleep after all," he commented and turned his eyes back to the city below. "This would be a good time for Gilbert to pop up, wouldn't it?"

The man sighed lightly and raised his arm—the one Matthew wasn't leaning against—to scratch slightly at the side of his neck. "I wonder if he'll even be able to find us," Heracles mused aloud as he shifted so that the Canadian's head settled more comfortably.

"HEY! GREEK BASTARD!"

Heracles paused, turning his head and looking over his shoulder. Gilbert stood a few long steps behind them, no doubt thinking he was looking on quite a romantic scene, when he could only see their backs. He looked as though he was practically fuming, his red eyes narrowed practically into slits, his hands balled into fists. He lifted one of his hands and pointed angrily at Heracles.

"Get the hell away from him!" he demanded. Matthew, roused by the voice, mumbled sleepily and blinked open his eyes, rubbing slightly at them and turning his head to peer over his shoulder. "And _you_! Lying little bastard, going off on a date when you said you'd be helping your brother! I'll get you back for that!"

"Gi-Gilbert," Matthew breathed, surprised and terribly pleased. Heracles shifted next to him, placing his hands on his knees and standing up, blinking slightly at the fuming, pale-haired man. Matthew took notice that Francis seemed to be watching them from a safe distance away as he himself stood up as well.

"Didja hear me?" Gilbert growled, jabbing a finger at Heracles somewhat aggressively. "Get away from him."

Heracles glanced down at Matthew, who blinked—wide-eyed, cheeks flushed with something like surprised pleasure—then looked at Gilbert. Inclining his head, he said simply, "No."

Gilbert blinked and faltered.

"Eh…Heracles?" Matthew asked, confused.

"Why would I?" Heracles asked Gilbert simply (_"You can't just let Mattie go off with him, ya got that? Make Gilbert spit out his real feelings before you let that Prussian bastard take him away!"_ Alfred had told him earlier, with vigor and burning blue eyes).

"Be-because." Gilbert fumbled slightly. "Because I said so." Francis groaned quietly.

"That isn't a reason," Heracles informed him, his voice as steady as always.

Gilbert glowered, and Heracles faintly heard a _"come on, are you a coward, Prussia?"_ from France in the background. Matthew shifted nervously next to him.

"B…because," Gilbert began, his voice tight. Heracles tilted his head slightly, expectantly. "Because he's _mine_, dammit!" Francis groaned quietly and slapped his palm against his forehead behind him.

"Yours?" echoed Heracles. _'Does that count as confessing his 'real feelings'? No, it's not very clear. I'd better not let Matthew go yet.'_

"_Make him spit it out!" _he remembered Alfred had said. _"I'll pay you back, just you watch! When I'm rich again, you'll be the first country I buy all my exports from! I'll buy so much olive oil you won't be able to make enough for me! Hahahaha!"_

Heracles reached out, hooking his arm lightly around Matthew's shoulders and pulling him snugly against his side. The Canadian blinked rapidly with a small "eh?" and Gilbert practically roared, face flushing with anger. "Did he say that he was yours?" Heracles asked Gilbert simply.

Gilbert was gnashing his teeth now, red eyes practically blazing. "Grrh—Matthew!" He snapped his eyes to him, growling. "I love you, so you'd damn well better get your ass over here right _now_!" He pointed angrily to the spot next to him, stamping a foot impatiently.

'_Ah, that counts, doesn't it,'_ Heracles thought and loosened the grip of his arm. Matthew goggled, wide-eyed with flushing cheeks. Not-so-subtly, the Greek nudged him forward with a hand to the back and Matthew stumbled towards Gilbert.

Quickly, as if afraid Heracles would try and snatch him back, Gilbert grabbed one of the blonds' wrists and pulled him against his chest. "Matthew's vital regions belong to Prussia!" he declared loudly, ducked his head, and kissed him soundly, one of his hands cupping his jaw to keep him in place. Matthew, dazed and thinking he was quite possibly dead (_'heaven? Is this a dream?'_), could only loop his arms around the other man's waist and clutch on for dear life as Gilbert kissed him.

Francis made an "ohohoho~" sound in the background, grinning with his hand held over his mouth. Heracles watched with a feeling of satisfaction and Alfred and Arthur—from their spying place behind a tall stone pillar—high-fived.

Gilbert pulled away, a bit red in the face, and stared at Matthew expectantly. "I love you too," was the dazed statement. Gilbert raised a brow slightly, waiting for more, and Matthew sighed. "And my vital regions belong to Prussia."

"Haha!" Gilbert grinned proudly. "Fucking right." He glared at Heracles over the top of Matthew's head. "So _there_!"

Heracles lips twitched into a smile and he walked over towards them. Gilbert glared warily and Alfred's head poked out from behind the stone pillar, curious—this wasn't part of the plan, was it?

Matthew rubbed Gilbert's side consolingly before the man slowly released his tight grip on him, expression still wary. He turned to Heracles and smiled broadly up at him. "Thank you," he said simply. The Greek man nodded his head slightly as he halted in front of him.

"Mn, thank you too. I had a nice time." Then, without any warning, he leaned in and kissed Matthew's temple lightly. This provoked an enraged snarl from Gilbert, who grabbed Matthew and clutched him possessively, glaring at Heracles furiously and growling a little deep in his chest.

'_A new challenger has appeared!?'_ thought Alfred furiously behind the pillar, grinning. "Looks like you aren't the only homewrecker, Arthur!"

"You bastard! What did I say about calling me that!?"

* * *

The end? XD There'll be drabbles to come—I've got ideas, hahahaha. And don't worry, there's not going to be a love triangle. I think Heracles just found Gilbert funny when he was acting like a cat with its dander up.


	9. In which you see more sides of the story

Initially, Ludwig had been understandably hesitant about Gilbert going to live with Matthew Williams. The man just seemed so _timid_, at least as far as first impressions went. It wasn't hard to imagine him being pushed around by Gilbert and only agreeing to this because the man forced him to. Ludwig recognized that his brother tended to be a bit—no, a _lot_—of a bully.

He placed the last of the boxes down in the Canadian's foyer, looking at Matthew standing there, smiling a little with his hands clasped together.

"You're sure you want to take my idiot of a brother in?" he asked slowly.

Matthew blinked at the question before smiling broadly and nodding firmly. "I'm positive! It'd be nice to have the company," he replied simply, honestly, then glanced around for said 'idiot of a brother'. When he heard the television come on in the living room, an annoyed expression seemed to surface on his face

"If you say so," Ludwig muttered doubtfully. He watched—with faint curiosity—as Matthew turned around quickly and made his way to the doorway of the living room, peering inside.

"Gilbert! What the hell are you doing?" the Canadian exclaimed, the tone of his voice slightly agitated. "Your boxes are just _sitting here_ in my hallway! And I'm not moving any more of _your_ stuff!" Ludwig's brows quirked up with surprise and he watched with sudden interest. Gilbert made an annoyed growling noise from the living room and grudgingly got up from the couch.

"You _should_," he griped. "I'm too awesome for _moving_ things."

"Not today, you're not. Finish moving these boxes up into the room, or else you can make your own dinner," Matthew directed firmly. Ludwig watched with astonishment as Gilbert grudgingly obeyed.

The German scratched slightly at his hair with his fingers. Maybe Matthew would be fine after all.

----------

"How's living with Gilbert?" Ludwig asked Matthew a few months later during a world conference meeting. The younger man blinked before his cheeks went a bit pink. _'Eh? He's blushing? What does that mean!?'_ the German thought with sudden rush of alarm. _'What did you do, brother?'_

"Oh, it's…nice." Matthew scratched his cheek with a bashful expression.

"Nice," Ludwig repeated disbelievingly. "You won't be saying that after a couple more years with him around."

"No, um…" Matthew ran his fingers through his hair, smiling slightly. "I think I'll like it as long as Gilbert wants to live with me." He tugged slightly at his wayward curl of hair, twirled it around and around with his finger with a happy little hum.

Ludwig raised his eyebrows. "You won't be getting rid of him anytime soon, then," he said with a touch of amusement and even a slight feeling of fondness towards both the younger man in front of him and even for _Prussia_. Matthew knit his fingers together and shuffled in place, looking down at his feet with a somewhat shy smile.

"Well…good."

* * *

"Canada? Are you sure that's wise, letting Gilbert move in with him?" After Roderich had been reminded as to who Matthew was, he proceeded to look at Ludwig very dubiously, his eyebrows raised. "You know more than anyone what your brother is like."

"I know, but, well." Ludwig seemed pensive for a couple of moments. "No, I think Matthew will deal quite fine with him."

"I'll have to see for myself to believe it," Roderich said, shaking his head disbelievingly.

----------

Roderich managed to push it off for a couple of months, for as long as he _ could_ put off visiting Gilbert. There was some sort of time limit, however, on the _'I was busy'_ excuse, after which point it wasn't really a good excuse anymore (a year or so? Roderich wasn't quite sure). So, he decided—with a feeling of resignation—that he would have to go visit the man.

Elizaveta seemed very curious about Matthew. "So, he's America's brother? The wavy-haired boy? I think I saw him ghosting around during a couple of meetings," she said thoughtfully. "He kind of…flickers, though. Sometimes I don't see him at all." She shrugged her shoulders lightly.

"Yes, he's fairly unnoticeable. According to Ludwig, however, he and Prussia get along quite well." Roderich seemed thoroughly puzzled by this, at how anyone would withstand Gilbert _willingly_ for an extended period of time, especially how it had been a couple of months.

"Hmm," Elizaveta said with a shine in her eyes. She surreptitiously noted to bring her camera, just in case.

----------

"Huh? Four Eyes, Hungary." Gilbert grinned broadly, curiously, at them from the doorway, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"We're visiting," Roderich said crisply, pushing up his glasses slightly. "We heard from Ludwig that you'd moved in with Canada." He glanced around, not sure if Matthew was there or not (invisible as he was) or if he'd pop out from around a corner.

"That's right," Gilbert exclaimed, chest puffing out. "I did! The bitch is in the kitchen, making me my dinner."

"Call me a bitch one more time, Gilbert, let's see what happens," a voice said, and both Roderich and Elizaveta turned to see an annoyed-looking Matthew pop his head out of the kitchen. He waved slightly to them in greeting, wearing an apron on over his clothes. "Hello, Roderich, Elizaveta. Would you like to come in?"

"Certainly," Roderich said primly, partially just because Gilbert was making a face at the thought. He stepped inside and Gilbert wandered off towards the kitchen with a grumbling noise.

He snuck up behind the Canadian, sneaking an arm around his waist and pulling him back against his chest. "C'mon," Gilbert said with a grin when Matthew made a slight face at the physical contact, turning his head to the side, "you know that you're _my_ bitch." He paused and lowered his voice slightly so only the other man could hear, knowing what words would endear Matthew instantly to him, "And I love you."

"Oh." Matthew blinked at him before beaming, violet eyes shining. He leaned back slightly into his body, accepting the arm tightening around his waist. Gilbert grinned and pumped a fist into the air internally in victory before leaning in towards him.

Both Matthew and Gilbert paused, however, at the sound of a quiet click. Gilbert turned his head with a grudging, annoyed expression, Matthew's honestly bemused.

"Oh, don't mind me." Elizaveta beamed at them both from the kitchen doorway, holding a camera in her hands, "I was just admiring the décor."

* * *

Yao slammed the front door quickly, a hot flush of red sweeping across his face, his eyes slightly wide. "_Honestly_, aru, couldn't they lock the door or put a hat on the knob or _something_?" he exclaimed with exasperation as there was a quiet thud and a series of muffled groans from inside the house. Apparently its two occupants had been undisturbed with his abrupt entry—they probably hadn't noticed him at all, in fact.

"Huh." Yong Soo tilted his head to the side, staring at the closed front door. He grinned after a few moments, eyebrows quirking upwards. "I didn't know Matthew was so…" He thought for a moment, searching for the right word, "…_bendy_."

"Don't talk about it, aru!" Yao squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't want to _think about it_." Yong Soo was looking thoughtful. _'It never happened, aru. It was just a hallucination.'_

"Hey, hey, aniki, can we try out that position when we get home?" he asked with a devilish grin.

"Eh? No, aru!"

"But Prussia-nii is doing it…"

"Ah! Don't call him your brother, aru! He's not someone you should aspire to be like!"

* * *

"Congratulations, Prussia!" Cuba exclaimed as he lifted up his shot glass in tribute to the other man. Gilbert smiled smugly and lifted up his own shot glass before both downed their glasses simultaneously. The red-eyed man let out a noise of satisfaction.

"Thanks! Fuckin' good stuff, this." Gilbert blinked for a few moments, as if to clear his head.

"'Course it is," Cuba said, grinning. They both paused as they heard the front door open and the sound of muttered curses (in both English, French, and a slew of other dialects) coming up the hall to the kitchen. Gilbert grinned almost fondly over at Matthew in his fancy little suit as he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Oh, Cuba!" He blinked in surprise. Cuba gave him a hard stare before grinning and relaxing, recognizing him as Canada. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"It was on a whim sort of thing," Cuba said, flapping a large hand. "Had ta come'n congratulate two of my favorite people for getting together." He squinted good-naturedly and the Canadian blushed before walking over towards the table. "I heard from Yao. We'll have a shot, c'mon!" He put out another little glass, setting it down on the table.

"You'll need it after dealing with those fuckers, right?" Gilbert said, grinning and reaching out to loop an arm around Matthew's waist. The blond made an ungraceful squawk as he was hauled unceremoniously into the man's lap.

After a few moments of squirming and protests, Matthew gave up and sighed, settling back against Gilbert's chest. "Yes, _those fuckers_," he mumbled. "Stephen wouldn't even come to talk with me today! I ended up talking to the Governor-General." He scowled. "At least _she_ has some sense…"

"Have a shot, Matt," Cuba said, and the Canadian took it, sniffing at it with a small, appreciative noise. "Here's to my favorite people!" He lifted up his shot glass with a grin.

"Oh, thank you," Matthew said bashfully. Cuba grinned hugely, and the three of them tossed back the shots. "Whew! That's…that's good stuff, Cuba…strong."

"Made it myself," the big man replied with pride.

* * *

"Heracles-san?"

Heracles opened one of his eyes with a somewhat sleepy noise, pausing as he saw Kiku standing next to him. He straightened up from where he had been napping in his seat at the conference table. "Mmn? What is it, Kiku?"

"Did something happen?" the Japanese man asked with a blink, tilting his head. Heracles tilted his head slightly in return.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Well, Gilbert-san has been looking over at you as if he wants to kill you," Kiku said tentatively, glancing over his shoulder. True to his word, Prussia was glaring slightly in his direction, sitting next to Matthew, who was listening to his brother prattle on in the seat next to his with a tolerantly affectionate expression.

"No, well…" Heracles seemed thoughtful. "He just got upset that I touched one of his possessions."

"His…possession?" Kiku echoed, still confused.

Heracles nodded absentmindedly. He met Gilbert's gaze squarely, those red eyes narrowing further in response. Then, the Greek quite pointedly move his gaze over to Matthew, smiling a little to himself. Gilbert made a growl audible even on the other side of the room and abruptly wrapped his arms tightly around Matthew, who blinked rapidly in surprise. Alfred stared too before bursting out laughing.

Heracles smiled to himself and looked back at Kiku.

_'I really don't understand these peoples' behavior,'_ thought Kiku, somewhat tiredly.

* * *

"Now, what about you, Al?" Matthew asked his brother one evening as they sat at the couch. Gilbert was asleep in the armchair, leaving the two blonds to settle on the couch, the television on in the background.

"What about me?" the American asked, grinning questioningly.

"I mean, you don't have anyone, well, romantically," Matthew clarified with a little smile, scratching his hair with his fingers.

Alfred raised an eyebrow with a grin. "So what?"

"Do I need to come up with an Operation MAA?" Matthew questioned.

"MAA?"

"Make Al Awesome," Matthew said with a laugh. "We could find you someone, I'm sure. We know plenty of countries, after all." Alfred wrinkled up his nose at him. "What?"

"The hero needs no romance!" Alfred declared dramatically. "He is a lone wolf on the plains, he is an eagle in the sky! He is meant to protect everyone!" He paused. "Except the commies."

_"Al!"_

"Kidding!" Alfred laughed, winking audaciously. "But, nah, I'm good."

"No Mary Jane to your Spiderman?" Matthew asked him.

"Nope! I quite like being a lone wolf," Alfred said, grinning and folding his arms across his chest.

"And not being in a relationship means you get to interfere more with other peoples' lives," Gilbert grumbled drowsily from the chair. He opened one of his eyes slightly. "Nosy American bastard."

"Silence, villain! I will get you with my Alfarang!"

"Is that like a batarang?" Matthew asked good-naturedly, just because it was expected of him.

"Yeah, except _more awesome_."

* * *

"Oh, rosbif, I thought it would never happen!" Francis sniffed overdramatically. Arthur wondered, not for the first time that hour, _why me_? The Frenchman was looking happily over to where Matthew and Gilbert were seated at a lunch table by themselves, the latter demanding (loudly) that Matthew feed him while the Canadian looked equal parts exasperated, embarrassed and affectionate.

"Ehhh," Arthur replied dispassionately, wondering if Francis would just go away if he ignored him. It had never worked before, so he wasn't too optimistic with the prospect of success. He sighed and resisted the urge to knead between his eyebrows.

"They are perfect together, non?" Francis looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "They compliment each other so well—and it's obvious that they are in _amour_. Oh, young love, so sweet and so pure…" 'Sweet' and 'pure' obviously meant something different to Francis than it did the rest of the world, Arthur thought.

"I guess," the Briton said at last, grudgingly. "I'm glad to see Matthew with someone who doesn't get him mixed up with his brother. And as long as he's happy…"

Francis grinned and nodded firmly. "Right? Oh, Matthieu grew up so fast!" He reached in his pocket, sniffling with his eyes beginning to water, and pulled out a handkerchief. Arthur regarded him with a raised eyebrow (and Francis teased him about his _embroidery_? At least he didn't carry around a handkerchief like a middle-aged housewife) but didn't comment as he began to dab at his eyes.

"Yeah," Arthur sighed. "Too fast…"

Sniff.

Francis looked over at him keenly. "Do you need my handkerchief, rosbif?"

Arthur kept his face turned away. "No; leave me alone, you frog."

* * *

Yes, Gilbert _does_ use affection to get his own way with Matthew. XD Don't say you didn't expect it from him. Also, 'rosbif' is a derogatory term for English people (by the French—it also means roast beef, haha).

First time writing Roderich or Elizaveta. Cuba, too. I never thought this fic would get so bloody _long_, and it's funny because all of these little things make the longest chapter. Also, Cuba and Prussia seem to get along, as on Gilbert's April 1st blog, Cuba comments calling him 'big bro Prussia'.

Also, the 'Stephen' Matthew mentioned is our prime minister, Stephen Harper—who a lot of people, at least here in Newfoundland where I live, have a special hatred for and call Stephen Shrub, in tribute to his BFF George W. Bush. But at least our Governor-General is awesome, meeting President Obama at the plane station when he first came to Canada and all of that good stuff.


	10. In which there is water volleyball

A cruise. Why not? I got a thoroughly random urge to write this. XD

* * *

"This is fucking awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed, flexing his arms and arching his back in a stretch. Matthew eyed his bare upper body admiringly as they walked out onto the deck in swimming trunks. Some nations lounged by the pool, enjoying the sunlight, others inside taking part in the various activities on the ship. "Best idea your dipshit brother's ever come up with!" He grinned.

"A world meeting on a cruise liner _is_ a pretty good idea," Matthew agreed. Though, he was pretty sure Alfred just suggested it so that he could _go_ on a cruise and say it was an 'important world conference'. Alfred hadn't had a chance to just laze around for a while, after all.

Matthew padded across the deck, sandals slapping, and sunk down in a chair by the pool, enjoying the warm sun beaming down from the clear blue sky, shrugging off his t-shirt to better soak up some rays. He shaded his eyes with his hands, watching the elder ex-nation approach the edge of the pool.

"I'm swimming!" Gilbert crowed and proceeded to jump into the water. Hungary, sunbathing not far away, spluttered indignantly as a few droplets of water hit her from the enormous splash. He surfaced with a gasp and a loud laugh. "Ahahaha~!" Matthew laughed quietly, covering it with a hand when Elizaveta threw him a somewhat exasperated look which melted away as Austria sank down on the blanket next to her and offered her a towel.

"Aniki, let me put lotion on your back," Matthew heard Im Yong Soo saying nearby, his tone excited. Matthew peered over at them, lifting a hand to shade his eyes. The Chinese man was stretched over a towel on his stomach, his head laid on his folded arms. Korea was kneeling next to him, his eyes gleaming and fingers wrapped around a bottle, thumb flipping the cap off.

"Whatever, aru, do what you want," said Wang Yao's voice sleepily, obviously lulled by the warmth of the sun and the overall relaxing atmosphere on the ship, the distant call of gulls. "Just don't go touching whatever you wan—AAH!"

"Whoops! Was it cold, aniki?"

"_Yes_, aru! Warn me, please!"

"Hehe, sorry, aniki. I'm putting it on now," Yong Soo said cheerfully and set to slathering it over Yao's back.

Matthew looked back to the pool, the water glittering in the sunlight, and smiled quietly as he watched Gilbert. The man was calling something over to a grudging-looking Germany, who had just emerged onto the deck with Italy in tow. The smaller man beamed—ever cheerful—in Prussia's direction.

"Let's play in the water!" He heard Feliciano chirp, tugging on Ludwig's arm. The tall, muscular blond made his way—very reluctantly, Matthew thought—over to the pool. Gilbert grinned and swam backwards, grabbing a ball from where it had been floating on the surface nearby, juggling it between his hands.

Matthew was unable to bite back a fond sigh, smiling quietly. His chest felt warm, and from more than just the sun. He scolded himself for turning into a sentimental sap—well, _more_ of a sentimental sap, anyway, he'd been kind of bad before…

"Looks fun," said a deep, somewhat-sleepy voice behind his chair. Matthew turned around, blinking with surprise up at Heracles. Kiku was at his side, conservatively wearing a long t-shirt and shorts past his knees while the Greek seemed to be comfortable in just trunks. Looking at them standing side-by-side, Matthew was suddenly struck by how they seemed to…_fit_, almost.

Japan bowed to him briefly with a slight smile of greeting and received a smile in return from the wavy-haired blond. "Yeah," Matthew agreed, looking towards the pool. Gilbert was laughing, bonking the ball off of Ludwig's head, Feliciano splashing water towards them both, smiling broadly.

"Why don't you go play with them?" Heracles asked him, tilting his head slightly.

Matthew looked thoughtfully between him and the slim Japanese man—who would occasionally look over with furtive admiration at Heracles broad chest. He smiled quietly to himself, getting an idea. "I will if you and Kiku do. Then we'll be able to play a game three-on-three. What do you say?"

Kiku balked at the thought of removing his shirt. "O-oh no," he said, lifting his hands quickly in refusal.

Heracles tilted his head, body shifting slightly in his direction, gazing down at him gently. "It would be fun…please?" he asked.

Their eyes met, and Matthew had the feeling a quiet emotion passed between them and he bit back the almost overpowering urge to grin, fingers lifting to cover his mouth just in case he did. "…oh, alright. But just for a little while," Kiku said at last and Heracles' lips twitched into a pleased smile.

"Alright!" Matthew cheered and slid off his chair, trotting towards the pool. Heracles and Kiku followed him, the latter leaving his shirt on the back of a chair, arms crossing slightly—modestly—over his now-bare chest. They slid into the water and shifted through it towards the other group of three.

"Hiya, Kiku!" Feliciano greeted and waved one of his hands with a broad smile. "Heracles!" Gilbert's head turned quickly as he heard the latter name, looking with suspicion at the Greek, who smiled placidly at the red-eyed man. Ludwig nudged Feliciano and the Italian blinked before his eyes focused on Matthew and he smiled. "And Matthew~! Ve! Are you going to play with us?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Matthew said bashfully, paddling towards them with a little smile.

"Not at all," Ludwig said gruffly. "Perhaps if you're over here, then _Bruder_ will stop being childish."

"Hey!" Gilbert protested.

Matthew swallowed a laugh and swam closer, floating. "So," he said, "what is it that we're playing?" Feliciano placed a finger to his chin, smiling thoughtfully.

"Nothing wrong with just hitting West with this," Gilbert said, tossing the ball in his hand up and down with a broad grin towards his brother. Ludwig looked at him with exasperation.

"Ve, we should play volleyball!" Feliciano said excitedly, throwing up his hands. Matthew glanced over—there _was_ a net you could set up in the pool. Kiku blinked slightly, exchanging a glance with Heracles, who shrugged his broad shoulders with a brief smile.

"Sounds good!" Gilbert clenched his hand into a fist, grinning. He was just as competitive as Alfred, Matthew thought dryly, catching the determined gleam in his eyes. "Hey, Matthew, get over here! Me, you, and Feliciano on a team!"

"Nope," Matthew said, folding his arms over his chest. "I want to be on a team with Kiku and Heracles."

Gilbert looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "You're supposed to be on my side." He jabbed a finger at the Canadian with an accusing expression. "You can't ditch your _awesome_ lover for two _very_ un-awesome old cat ladies!"

"Is he talking about us?" Kiku mumbled.

"I suppose. Though, you don't particularly look like an old lady to me, Kiku," Heracles replied.

Matthew, who had went pink at 'lover', looked at Gilbert stubbornly. "You can be on a team with your brother and Feliciano," he said, flashing a smile. "Just think of it as a little friendly competition." Gilbert made a slight face at that.

Feliciano had directed Ludwig in pulling the net across and beamed through it at Matthew, Heracles and Kiku. Gilbert still had a sour face. "So, this is good?" chirped the Italian excitedly. "Us against you three?" Matthew gave him a thumbs-up. "Let's start, ve!"

"I can referee, aru," yawned Yao from where he was lying, lifting his hand slightly.

"I'll keep score!" Yong Soo put in, grinning. He had reclined next to the man, his feet dangling slightly over the edge of the pool.

"Let's get started!" Gilbert said seriously, narrowing his eyes with a grin. "Prepare to lose!"

* * *

As Matthew high-fived his teammates, Gilbert sulked a little bit on the other side of the net, arms folded over his chest. "Oh well!" said Feliciano brightly, smiling. "That was fun, though! Ludwig, can we go get some pasta now~?" He attached himself to the German's back.

"Alright," Ludwig answered indulgently, hooking his arms absently under Feliciano's legs, holding him so he wouldn't fall back in the water. "Do you want to come, _Bruder_?"

"Nah, you go enjoy your pasta," Gilbert said, flapping a hand. Ludwig shrugged his shoulders and waded to the edge of the pool, Feliciano still clinging to his back, humming happily. Gilbert held his breath and dived under the net, surfacing by Matthew, who looked at him with surprise.

"Sorry we beat you," he apologised, though he was still smiling.

"Hah, whatever," Gilbert said with a grin. "I don't need to win at volleyball to know how awesome I am."

"Matthew," said Heracles, attracting his attention, "we're going back to the rooms." He tilted his head slightly. "See you." He smiled briefly. Matthew noted that his tanned fingers occasionally grazed the pale skin of Kiku's shoulder. The smaller man's face was flushed a little.

"Thank you for inviting us to play, Matthew-san," Kiku added, bowing his head. "Gilbert-san."

"Just 'Matthew' is fine," the Canadian said quickly, waving a hand. Kiku smiled briefly at him and nodded, and the two of them left.

"Do I gotta worry about that Greek bastard anymore?" Gilbert wondered, slinging one of his arms around Matthew's shoulder. The blond smiled and laughed lowly under his breath, shaking his head a little bit as he glanced over at the former nation.

"You were worried?"

Gilbert lifted up his chin with a disapproving growl. "He was trying to interfere with the awesome me invading your vital regions," he declared, and pressed a firm, chlorine-tasting kiss against Matthew's lips. Pale eyelids fluttered briefly before lowering over violet-blue eyes.

"Hmm," Gilbert hummed approvingly against his mouth, cupping his jaw with a wet hand as he kissed him.

"Don't do that kind of stuff in the pool!" Yong Soo laughingly called over to them. "You'll get the water dirty!" Matthew flushed red and pulled away, embarrassed, while Gilbert made a face over at the Korean, who grinned and kicked at the water with his toes.

"Yong Soo," Yao sleepily admonished, back to half-dozing in the heat, reaching over to slap his side with an open palm. Yong Soo pouted and whined a little.

Matthew swam over, climbing out of the pool, combing a hand through his dripping hair as he straightened up. Gilbert hoisted himself out of the water after him. "You know," he commented as he stepped out of the pool, grinning broadly, "you're pretty hot, all wet like that." He was rewarded with a bright blush and chuckled smugly.

"Could say the same for you," Matthew shot back, red-cheeked. Gilbert looked at him with surprise before grinning wolfishly.

"Let's go back to the room," Gilbert suggested, eyes gleaming.

Matthew turned up his nose. "No, I'm getting something to eat first."

"You bastard," Gilbert said, though he was grinning.

* * *


	11. In which there are apples picked

I dunno about other Canadians, but I know every year me and my family pick crabapples and make pie and whatever else. XD

* * *

"Like, totally thanks for inviting me and Liet over," said Feliks suddenly late in the afternoon, beaming at Matthew as he adjusted the basket in his arms. In actuality, Matthew had originally just asked Alfred, but the excited American had immediately put forth the idea of inviting Lithuania and with him came Poland. The Canadian didn't mind, though. It was nice to see the two other men, and he got along with Feliks well. He visited sometimes to check up on his people who lived in Canada.

"It's nothing," Matthew replied with a smile, "it's nice to have some others to help pick apples. Actually, I should be thanking _you_ for coming…" Feliks flapped a hand dismissively at him, grinning.

The crabapple trees were full of fruit. They had grown behind Matthew's house for many, many years now. He remembered planting them when he was still young, along with the maple trees, and they were the oldest trees in Ottawa (he was fairly certain, and he was rarely wrong when it came to anything about his country). Nevertheless, there seemed to be hundreds of fruit to knock down each year, and it was tough on his own—Gilbert wasn't exactly keen on picking them, either. _'So lazy,'_ he thought fondly.

"I want to make some crepes," Feliks commented as he raised his stick, knocking a few apples down into his basket. Nearby, Alfred was holding the bottom of a stepladder as Toris got some down from the top of the tree.

"Crepes are good—I make a lot of pies and give most of them away to whoever wants them. Gilbert said he'd make some cider," Matthew said, smiling over at the other blond. "He made some last year—it was great."

"Oh yeah?" Feliks cocked an eyebrow with a grin. "You two are, like, so in love, aren't you?" His voice was teasing as he knocked down some more apples, Matthew mimicking him with a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

"I don't know how well that applies," he replies modestly. "Gilbert's…well, Gilbert. And I'm…me."

"Prussia's totally himself, all right," Feliks said good-naturedly, rolling his eyes skywards. "Anyway, you two are totally cute together." He winked with a broad smile. "Well, whenever I notice you." He laughed sheepishly and adjusted the basket again, hitching it up slightly.

Matthew smiled quietly at that, not bothered. Lately it seemed as though he was being seen more and more as himself rather than Alfred, so he didn't mind the times where he was unnoticed so much. He shifted over towards the bags they were filling with apples once the baskets got topped up. He dumped the contents of his basket in it, looking thoughtfully up towards the clear, pale blue sky, breathing in the cool air.

"Careful!" he heard Alfred calling to Toris, who chuckled quietly at the American's worrying.

Straightening up and turning to go back to the tree, he let out a soft "oof" as he bumped into something. He glanced up with surprise at Gilbert, who flashed him a cocky smile. He'd crept up quite soundlessly—Matthew hadn't even heard the back door to the house opening.

"Yo," he said, "looks like you got a ton so far; more than enough for my awesome _Apfelwein_. And it looks like that Pole is good at something besides cross-dressing, eh?" Said Pole made a face over at him but didn't reply, distracted with catching apples in his basket that Toris was tossing down to him.

"What're you doing out here?" Matthew asked bemusedly. "I thought you said you weren't going to come out and help us."

"Eh, who said I was helping?" Gilbert said, grinning. His fingers grazed the back of Matthew's neck where his hair was pulled back as much as he could manage into a tail, out of his face. "I just came to grace you with my awesome presence since you haven't seen me all day."

A pair of blue-violet eyes rolled at his words. "Thanks for that," he replied dryly. He squeaked, however, when Gilbert leant over and pressed a kiss against the exposed back of his neck, breath warming the skin.

"S'getting cold out," he commented as he drew back. "Come in soon." He grinned, raising his eyebrows. "I'm hungry and I want some food."

"I'll get right to that," sighed Matthew, though he was smiling, his cheeks slightly flushed red. Gilbert grinned, leaned in at the same time as the other, mouths pressing together briefly, though warmly. It drove away the chill in the autumn air and Matthew placed a palm lightly against the man's chest, fingertips curling slightly into his shirt before Gilbert drew away.

"There's your incentive to come in soon," he said, grinning cheekily with gleaming red eyes. Matthew laughed and the ex-nation smirked before loping back towards the house, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You two totally gave me cavities," complained Feliks, though he was grinning in amusement.

"Eww," Alfred said, his hands placed over his eyes. Toris had a hand over his mouth to hide a smile, his eyes glittering. "Dude, I don't need to see my brother making out with his boyfriend."

Matthew threw an apple at him.

* * *

"The hell," Gilbert said roughly, his mouth pressed to the back of Matthew's shoulder, body warm and solid draped over his. "How d'you smell like apples even under your clothes? I think you even fucking taste like them."

"I don't – ngh – know," Matthew said with a breathy laugh. He flinched, ticklish, as Gilbert's hands roamed up over his sides, nails scratching lightly over his skin, trailing across his ribs. Gilbert grinned and bit the back of his shoulder, shifting his hips forward abruptly and the laugh abruptly gave way to a soft, long groan.

"Fuck," Gilbert muttered hoarsely in appreciation, breath coming in short pants. His mouth slid across, teeth biting down on the back of Matthew's neck in an animalistic, possessive gesture. The metal of his iron cross dug between Matthew's shoulder blades and the younger man reached back blindly to clutch at one of his hands, entangling their fingers together.

Pressing a kiss to his tousled hair, Gilbert shifted slightly, his hands sliding down along his hips. Tilting them slightly, he pressed in deep and Matthew buried his face into the blankets with a noise that was muffled. "Hey," said Gilbert roughly, grinning with a slightly flushed face, hair sticking to his forehead, "don't be quiet. It's just us here." His hand slid down along Matthew's stomach and the blond groaned at the touch of his fingers, rough and familiar.

It seemed to end far too soon, with the tightening of a warm, calloused palm around him and hot breath puffing a low oath into his ear.

Matthew settled in close to Gilbert afterwards, sighing contentedly and curling into his side, fingers splayed slightly over his chest. A muscular arm tightened briefly about his shoulders, nose brushing his forehead, nosing strands of hair aside, before lips pressed against it gently. The Canadian's eyelids flickered open and he blinked up at the man questioningly, the gesture surprising him.

"You did that, once, when you thought I was asleep," Gilbert said with a grin, drawing back slightly. "Before…" He waved his hand vaguely, then settled it back against the curve of Matthew's spine, fingers stroking idly in a way that made the younger country wriggle slightly.

"Y-you were awake?" Matthew spluttered a bit when the words registered, embarrassed, cheeks reddening. He buried his face in Gilbert's chest with a groan, and felt the vibrations of a laugh, fingers combing idly through his hair, nails scratching slightly across his scalp.

"Yup." Gilbert's mouth pressed against his ear, grinning against it. Matthew could practically feel his ears growing hot and curled his fingers against the man's strong sides, feeling the vibrations of another chuckle, though it didn't escape into the air. "Hey, what're you embarrassed about? We've done worse than that now." Teeth nipped his ear and he made a little noise in response.

"_Still_," Matthew mumbled.

Gilbert laughed again, wrapped Matthew up in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. The Canadian glanced up, saw his grin, and sighed a little with a smile. "I'm tired," the man declared. "Let's sleep."

"Okay," Matthew said, a bit sleepy himself. Fingers swept his hair slightly to the side, allowing lips to press against his forehead in the same spot as before. He could feel another flush coming on and willed it back, closing his eyes.

"Goodnight, Matthew," were the low words.

"Goodnight, Gilbert," Matthew murmured.

* * *


End file.
